Reprieve
by thebookishbee
Summary: As a new threat to the Wizarding World dawns upon the people of London, Harry Potter struggles through his eighth year at Hogwarts. Mysterious attacks, a strange relationship with Draco Malfoy, who seemed to have changed after the war, and a trip to Beauxbatons all encapsulate his time at school. (Drarry, Draco/Harry Fic).
1. Is it Paranoia?

_Chapter One: Is it Paranoia?_

* * *

A small, gritty road was the only sign of civilization leading towards the forest, which had seemed to cover nearly everything in wet, mustard green overgrowth. Two battered signs were barely visible underneath a heavy string of climbing fern, which seemed to knot itself around the grooves in the wood. Just beyond these signs stood what could be mistaken as a doorway; someone had bashed through a veil of vines, giving the appearance of a natural arch. Past this, the sound of fire could be heard, and stepping closer would reveal a group of four people, neatly sitting on a few various logs. They were whispering, hardly audible, poking sticks into the little ring of fire, kept at bay by a couple of stones.

"I 'eard Kenny quit last week," one them spoke, Scottish accent heavy, leaning closer to the woman on his right.

"Did he?"

"Oh, yeah. Made a big deal, too. I doubt Johnson's happy."

"Probably not," she agreed, taking her stick and watching as the kindling jumped through the flames. "Johnson hates quitters. I'll bet he's going to tell the whole neighborhood about it, and no one's ever going to hire Kenny again. Poor guy. Bad move, really."

"Bad move? Career-ending, I'd say," the man huffed, pulling himself up with importance. "I'd never quit like that. Kenny's a right fool."

"Foolish, yeah," she nodded, stirring the fire again. "Hope he's okay, though. Got a family to feed."

"Ay, sure, but he should've thought of that before he challenged Johnson!"

"Talking 'bout Kenny?" Another man turned towards the woman, face searching for gossip.

"Yeah," she replied, seemingly bored.

"Well?" He prompted, eyes flashing in the dark.

"'Well' nothing. He quit. That's it."

"Johnson knows?"

"Bloody hell, of course he knows," the other man butted in with quiet fervor, coming dangerously close to the fire, face lit dramatically by orange light. "They said he was goin' to fire Kenny that week. Guess Kenny knew and thought it'd be better to quit. Not like we all knew."

"I didn't know," the woman said crossly, her scowl hidden by the night. "Maybe he really did just quit. You two are always looking for excitement. And trouble," she added, turning away from both of them.

"Aw, Lauren, you didn't really like Kenny all that much, did you?"

She glared viciously at the man beside her. "Of course I didn't like him, but it's not like I like you either. The both of you are annoying."

"Oh, guess I should quit too," he quipped, smiling at the ground.

"Witty, aren't you?"

"Very."

"Oi," another woman's voice broke out from across the fire, "shut up, will you? I think I heard something."

Lauren let out an impatient groan, turning to the man beside her with a furrowed expression.

"You're so paranoid, Patricia," Lauren let her head drop to her hands. "There's nothing out here. Pete just thought it'd be a funny little jest to come drop us off in the middle of nowhere."

"I think it's doing wonders for team-building," Pete, the man beside her, smirked. "This is the most you've ever spoken to me, Lauren, and I'll say that that's an accomplishment."

"You're not that special, you know," she remarked dryly, poking the fire again. This time, her stick caught on fire, but she calmly blew it out, quickly then resuming to prodding at the big, nearly charred log in the middle of the flames. "Sometimes, you act like a real prick, Pete."

"Oh-ho, insulting me now, eh? Knew you'd run out of wit someday."

Fiery, Lauren made a move to respond, but was swiftly cut off by Patricia.

"Shut up!" Patricia hissed, and Lauren narrowed her eyes at her.

"Patricia, there's nothing out here," she repeated.

"I swear, I heard something, and John said he heard it too!"

"No, really, she's right. Probably just a bird or something, but it spooked me a little," the other man spoke, wrapping his arms around himself. "We got any blankets, Pete? Or better, whisky?" He sent Pete a sly smile, extending a hand over the fire.

"No," Pete shook his head, "it's all-natural out here. We stay warm with the fire."

"What?" Lauren asked incredulously, turning to Pete. "No blankets? Are you mad?"

"Not at all, Lauren dear. You'll survive. I think."

"Pete! I swear, next time you ask for a favor, I'll make sure it's not 'a camping trip in the woods.' This isn't camping! This is-this is torture!"

"Well, I'm glad to know that you're enjoying yourself so much," Pete laughed, and Lauren gave him a raw, burning stare.

"Lauren! Pete! Stop the bickering and shut up!" Patricia's voice wavered, and Pete looked over to her.

"Patricia, calm down, will you?"

"No!" she shrieked.

"Guys! I heard it! Just-just stop talking!" John's eyes were bulging.

There was a brief moment of silence, in which the only sound was the rustle of trees. Then, after perhaps a minute, Pete began:

"Look, nothing. Patricia, it's fine, there's-"

Suddenly, Pete's voice was interrupted by the sound of sticks breaking, as if someone was walking towards them. Delicate, timed footsteps seemed to be making their way right behind Lauren, and she shivered.

"See?" Patricia whispered, hands shaking. "I told you!"

There was no response, but Pete carefully picked up the axe beside him and raised it over his head.

"Who's out there?" His voice quavered, axe trembling in his hands. "Just a bird, I hope?"

"No bird makes that sound," Lauren scoffed, "it's probably a deer. Just sit down, Pete. Patricia and John are crazy."

"We're not crazy!" They said in unison, but trailed off as the steps came nearer.

"Pete," Lauren warned, "put that axe down. What the hell are you doing?"

"Just makin' sure, Lauren."

"Oh, my god," her head bobbed, "you're all idiots."

Nothing seemed to transpire for a few minutes; Pete stood, axe held up high, while Patricia and John quaked in their seats, anxious. Then, in an instant, a bright flash of green light shot out from the forest, trees illuminated in a vibrant, electric ray of chartreuse. Pete dropped to the ground, limp, and his axe clattered over the log, into the fire.

"Holy… Pete! Pete, get up!" Lauren dove to his side, shaking him. Head spinning, she tried reaching for the axe, but her fingers singed easily in the fire. "I said, Pete, get up! If-if this is your idea of some-some funny little joke, I'm telling you, it's not funny!" Green light shot above her head, and she screamed. "Get up! Pete! Get up!" Lauren slapped Pete, to Patricia's horror, but was stopped when another tremendous blast of light knocked her over, violently banging her head on a log. Her eyes seemed to go blank, as if they were shrouded in fog.

"Oh, Lauren! Pete!" Patricia gasped, scrambling over the fire and towards them. "John, get-" But, before Patricia could call for him, she too was hit by the light, and this time, a proud, booming voice echoed around the forest.

" _Avada Kedavra!_ " Someone shouted, sending more green light out, hitting the trees with a bullet-like force.

John, watching in terror as someone's boot slipped from the forest's cover, began running at an amazing speed, pelting through the thick undergrowth.

"Car, car, where's the car?"

His voice was just above a whisper, and he felt the light bouncing off the trees beside him. He looked around, frantically trying to find Pete's Ford. Pulse throbbing at an impossible speed, John made a turn, leaping over several fallen logs. Green light swelled around him, as if a great toad had swallowed him whole. The forest was teeming with snaky, whip-like vines, and John's hands extended themselves above him, balancing and swiping plants out of his way. In a terrifying moment, his foot caught on a tree root, and he was sent flying into the ground. Miraculously, a near-perfect beam of light missed its aim, and soared right above him. Shaken, but numb, John ignored the burning sensation creeping up his knee as he began running again, shoving and pushing through the growth. A dark-looking bird perched above him, sending out a loud, eerie call. He wasn't sure if this was a warning, or perhaps if the bird was a colleague with the green light, but he didn't have long to dwell on it when another ray came frighteningly close. The bird seemed to follow him, hopping from branch-to-branch, and John attempted to outrun it, diving over bushes. He came to a quick stop, unsure of where to go, but instantly saw a small sliver of moonlight to his left. He turned in that direction, hoping the madman behind him didn't see his change in course. Hitting vines and ferns out of the way, he could see the arch that Pete had cut, and the gravel road ahead. Green light came dangerously close to him, just whipping past his cheek, and John burst through the arch, screaming as he struggled with the lock on Pete's car.

"Locked? Locked?" He almost demanded the door to open, pulling the handle with tiring exertion.

Green light hit the side of the car, and John banged on the window, praying it would break.

"Stop," a voice commanded, and John continued to frantically break the window. "Please, please, please," he feverishly whispered, pounding with all his might. Looking down, he saw a rock, and, with great force, swung it towards the window, feeling relief as it shattered.

"Stop," someone said again, but John wriggled inside, hitting the gas pedal, but realizing he had no keys. "Keys, keys," he began searching, but looked upwards when a dark, cloaked figure stood at the window beside him.

"Stop."

A long, rugged stick rested carefully above John's nose, before a brilliant shower of light seemed to envelop him, turning the whole forest into a surreal shade of green.

* * *

 _A/N : Thanks for reading! This is just lead-up to a larger conflict; don't worry, the Hogwarts students will be in the next chapter. This is the first chapter to a much longer story, and the relationship between Draco and Harry is a very slow-burner. I'm going to be adding chapters as fast as possible (without compromising quality) so follow if you'd like to read more. Stick around if you want, and thanks again!_

 _-Bee_


	2. Diagon Alley

_Chapter Two: Diagon Alley_

* * *

Breakfast with the Weasleys was always a pleasant thing; Mrs. Weasley scrambling around, doling out toast, Ron saying something very daring and stupid at Hermione, Mr. Weasley propped up with The Daily Prophet. Harry, always a fan of Mrs. Weasley's cooking, was currently shoving down several sausages at once, despite Hermione's protests. He and Ron had been too busy playing Quidditch last night to get a proper dinner, and Harry was famished. Thankfully, he didn't choke, and instead moved on to his coffee, which went down hot and bitter in the back of his throat.

"Harry, slow down, will you?" Hermione said sternly, taking a break from lecturing Ron, who seemed to be only half-listening, face buried in a pile of scrambled eggs.

"I'm alright," Harry swallowed, his tongue on fire. "Just… excited."

"Yeah, Er-mynee," Ron mumbled, "'Arry hasn't been out of the house in a while."

"Well," she said carefully, "I 'spose it's exciting to be going back to Hogwarts, but I didn't think either of you enjoyed buying school supplies all that much…"

"Oh, no," Ron put on an oafish grin, "we love it."

Hermione, losing the argument, simply shook her head and returned to her own breakfast.

"Yes, school supplies," Mrs. Weasley chirped, scraping more eggs on Ron's plate, "what's on the list this year?"

"Don't worry, mum," Ron nodded, "I think we can buy everything second-hand. I double-checked."

"Oh, thank you Ron, dear," she smiled, getting to work on cleaning dishes.

"Ron, you didn't double-check, I checked for you," Hermione groaned, swirling her tea.

"Right, but I checked _with_ you, didn't I?" He grinned again, shoveling more eggs into his mouth.

"Well, thank you, Hermione." Mrs. Weasley's wand began making furious scrubbing motions at a pot, her face wraught with concentration. "And Ronald, don't lie to your mum. You're seventeen now, you're much too old for that."

"Yes, mum," Ron said dully, earning him a glare from Hermione. "I won't," he said, this time with a little more conviction.

Slightly pouting, Ron went back to his eggs, which didn't seem to be disappearing despite the continuous pattern of fork to mouth, mouth to fork. Soon enough, the three of them had finished breakfast, and Ron had scampered upstairs to get dressed. Mrs. Weasley had put on the radio, and Celestina Warbeck's voice belted through the house, causing Harry to give Hermione a good-natured, but exasperated glance. Once everyone was dressed and fed, Mrs. Weasley ushered them out the door, but not before handing Ron his list, which he'd almost left behind.

"Thanks, mum," Ron croaked, stuffing it in his pocket.

Outside, the hills spotted around the house were a mild yellow-gold, dry as the fall weather set in. The sky was a light shade of grey, and Ron grunted something about rain.

"Alright, then," Harry said, clasping Ron and Hermione's hand. "Let's go."

Immediately, Harry felt the familiar pulling sensation, and he wavered a little as the hills disappeared. In an instant, his feet hit the rough stone of Diagon Alley, and he felt Hermione pulling at his arm.

"Come on, Harry, Ron, let's go get our cauldrons. I heard the second-hand ones were almost gone!" Her bushy hair bustling behind her, Harry and Ron followed in suit, nearly knocking over a small, portly old lady as they rushed through the crowd. The sounds of wizards and witches advertising their products, the warm smell of waffle cones at Fortescue's, and the cold, late-August air enveloped the three of them. They began darting from shop-to-shop, balancing cauldrons, books, and other items on their arms. A quick stop in each shop allowed them to retrieve everything in an hour, and soon they were left with the task of buying robes. A disgruntled Ron trudged after Harry and Hermione, grumbling about all the things he was carrying. The three all stepped into Madam Malkins, a rush of linen-smelling air blowing as the door opened.

"Harry Potter!" Malkins beamed, landing a soft pat on Harry's shoulder. "I'm in the middle of fitting someone, so I hope it'll be alright if you have to wait a bit?" She questioned, peering for a second at the frown on Ron's face.

"No, no, we can wait," Harry assured, getting a scowl from Ron. "Do you have a place we can set our stuff down?"

Eager to help, Madam Malkins beckoned Harry to come towards her. She directed him to a small, overstuffed chair in the corner, and the three of them set everything down.

"Oh," Ron huffed, "I don't think I can carry them home."

"Ron, you're going to apparate home," Hermione said, frustrated. "There's no more walking around involved."

"Yeah, but who knows if I'll keep everything together," he winced, most likely remembering the splinching incident.

"Ron, you've done it a million times."

"Well, I-I don't feel as confident this time."

Harry tuned out as they continued to fight, watching Madam Malkins walk around the shop, helping out the customer in the back. After a few minutes of non-stop bickering, Harry butted in.

"Alright, you two, quiet down, will you? I'm gonna go to the back and ask Malkins a question," Harry stood up, careful not to knock any of their items to the ground, and began making his way to the back. However, just as soon as he'd left, he could hear Ron and Hermione arguing again, apparently not listening to Harry's directions. He smiled to himself, staring at the ground, and nearly bumped into the figure before him.

"Sorry, didn't see you there," Harry said sheepishly, snapping his head up. However, as his looked up, what he saw almost made him jump. "Oh… Hello, Malfoy," Harry's voice lacked any contempt, too surprised to make jabs.

"It's fine," Malfoy said stiffly, drawing his cloak further over him.

"Fine?" Harry echoed, unsure of what to say. "When have you ever been 'fine'?"

"Right now," Malfoy growled, making a small step to indicate he wanted to get by. Harry, unaware, continued on, feeling his old self getting back into the rhythm of taunting Malfoy.

"Clever, Malfoy," Harry teased, "and what's with the cloak? You can't hide from being a Malfoy, you know."

Malfoy looked furious, but then instantly veiled his emotions with a stony mask. "Maybe you can," he said quietly, turning his eyes down.

Harry stood still for a moment. This certainly wasn't how most conversations with Malfoy went. He'd expected something far more vicious, to mock his parents or Dumbledore.

"Guess it's a good idea," Harry tried again, "since your dad's in Azkaban and all. At least they got rid of the dementors, right?"

This time, there was no initial reaction, and Malfoy seemed to regard Harry with little importance. "Only you would think about it that way, Potter." There seemed to be less malice in his name than usual, and Harry, once again dumbfounded, could barely recognize Malfoy's statement as an insult. It was more of a fact, really, or a very plausible conclusion.

"Well-I mean-he'll go mad, you know." Harry instantly felt a wave of regret, realizing he was taunting Malfoy about his parents — something he did to him.

"Maybe," Malfoy said, this time a hint of sadness in his voice. "Maybe."

The two stood in a cold, icy silence for a few seconds, Ron and Hermione's argument seeping into the room. Harry shrank back, not used to this change in character, half-wishing for Malfoy to tease him back.

"I'm going to go now," Malfoy said roughly, brushing past Harry and hitting his shoulder on the way. Harry, confused, turned around and watched as Malfoy stormed out of the shop. _Okay, well he's not completely numb, I spose,_ Harry reasoned, but couldn't help still feeling off-put. _Maybe he's plotting something… Maybe he's got some kind of a plan._ Harry stared at the spot where Malfoy had been standing just seconds ago, and he scratched his head. However, before he could think further, Madam Malkins interrupted his train of thought, taking him to go select clothes. Ron and Hermione soon joined him in the back, each buying their sets of school and dress robes. At this, Ron protested, remembering the last pair of dress robes he had bought for school.

"Oh, Ron," Hermione laughed, "we'll get you some second-hand ones that aren't maroon and frilly, okay?"

Though Ron didn't seem very convinced, he eventually settled on ones of a simple, spice brown color, which Hermione had said paired nicely with his hair. Harry, not especially attached to his bottle-green dress robes, bought black robes, and Hermione told them all that hers was a secret. To this, Ron rolled his eyes, warranting a dangerous look from her. At the end of the day, their arms were full of new cloaks, books, and ingredients, making Harry forget all about his encounter with Malfoy. When they stepped out of Malkins, Hermione grabbed his arm, and quickly, he felt the sickening feeling as he was wrenched off the ground and back onto the soft dirt outside the Burrow. Ron had nearly dropped everything, and Hermione had given him a firm sigh.

Later that evening, after dinner, Harry found himself sitting in Ron's room, the three of them watching as Hermione played around with her wand. Showing off, she had transfigured a teacup into a ferret, soon reminding Harry of what had happened in Malkins.

"I just remembered," Harry started, "I met Malfoy in Madam Malkins today."

"Oh, yeah, we saw someone burst out the door," Ron said, "he looked really angry."

"Really? See, when I ran into him, he was being… sort of civil, I guess. He was trying really hard not to argue, but I could tell he was pretty pissed…"

"What'd you say?" Hermione asked, brow slightly furrowed.

"What'd I say? To him?" At this, Hermione nodded. "I mean, nothing really unusual. He just… didn't respond normally. No teasing, barely aggressive. Maybe he was upset because I was talking about his father," Harry suggested, feeling a little guilty again.

"Well, Harry, his dad's in Azkaban," Hermione frowned.

"I know, I-I made fun of it, just a little," Harry shrugged, but was rewarded with a pat from Ron.

"Prat deserves it," Ron said smugly, nodding in approval of Harry.

"Oh, c'mon, Ron," Hermione replied, "you can't help but feel a little bad for him, even though he's a self-righteous, arrogant bastard." She smiled slightly at this, amused and yet ashamed that she would say such a thing.

"Huh? I only heard the 'self-righteous, arrogant bastard' part," Ron responded, only for Hermione to moan something about him being 'so unsympathetic'.

"I guess I feel a little bad," Harry admitted, looking down at his feet.

"Maybe he's trying to be… tolerable, Harry," Hermione remarked, looking Harry head-on.

"Why?" Harry laughed dryly, shaking his head.

"Well… the Malfoys have no power anymore, Harry. I'm sure Malfoy realizes that he isn't going to be nearly as popular, even with the Slytherins. He couldn't live up to the Dark Lord's expectations, so why would his old friends want to hang out with him?" Hermione continued to stare at Harry. "You know, Slytherins are all about self-preservation, and since the Dark Lord is gone… making nice is probably the easiest way for him to survive. Why fight when there's nothing to fight for anymore?" Hermione challenged, and Harry knew her words were right. His shoulders slumped, drenched in momentary guilt, before Ron butted in.

"Sounds good to me. I think Malfoy deserves a little taste of his own medicine," he grinned, only to be whacked with a pillow by Hermione. "Hey, 'Mione, why do you have to attack me every time I say something?"

"Because you say stupid things," she said grumpily, but Harry laughed.

"Oh, what's so funny about this, huh?" Ron huffed.

"You guys… you fight like a married couple."

At this, Hermione blushed, and Ron turned a very deep shade of maroon. "That's not true!" Ron coughed, but Harry only smiled.

"Well," Hermione stood up awkwardly, "I think I'm going to bed now."

She shuffled out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

"Why'd you say that, Harry?" Ron groaned, climbing into bed.

"It's true, you know," Harry smiled, clambering into his own bed. "And, besides, I think Hermione knows it too. You're the daft one here, Ron," Harry laughed.

"Maybe," he mumbled, pulling the cover over his heads. Taking Dumbledore's Deluminator, Ron stole the light, clicked back the device, and the room was swallowed by darkness.

"Night," Harry said, eyes already thick with sleep.

"Night," Ron responded, the two of them burrowing deeper under the covers.

* * *

 _A/N:_ _Thanks for reading! More chapters coming soon, and coming quickly (I hope). Like I said, this is a super slow-burner with a long plot, so stick around if you want! Thanks again._

 _\- Bee._


	3. To Hogwarts Once Again

_Chapter Three: To Hogwarts Once Again_

* * *

That morning was far brighter and cheerier than yesterday's, the atmosphere boasting a belly of cerulean blue. Clouds swam about, as if someone had dipped their thumb in confectioner's sugar and streaked it across the sky. Harry was almost sad to leave; he had felt at home in the Burrow all summer. He ate slowly, enjoying the tumultuous amounts of food that Mrs. Weasley was piling onto their plates. He spent a good part of the morning avoiding his trunk, which had barely been able to close. Ginny was present this morning, having missed breakfast yesterday, and they spoke in polite tones about what they would be studying that year.

"I'm taking Potions again," Harry grumbled, sifting through his heap of potato hash. "If I go down the road of being an Auror, I've got to take it… Damn, I hate it."

"Well, Slughorn's still going to teach it, won't he?"

"I'm guessing," Harry's fork turned, mashing the potatoes into a nearly inedible state.

"Hurry up, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said kindly, eyeing the full plate of hash he was currently destroying. The train leaves in forty-five minutes, and Ron's still got to pack his bag!"

Ron, who, like yesterday morning, was eating an immense amount of eggs, looked up with his mouth bulging. "I thought I 'acked 'vrying, 'um," his words jumbled as he chewed. Swallowing, he tried again. "I thought I packed everything, mum."

"Not everything, dear," she said, picking up a dumpy-looking spellbook. "Forgot this."

Turning red, Ron took the book and finished off his eggs. "I'm going up to pack this away," he said, turning to run up the stairs. Hermione smiled, shaking her head.

"If he didn't have you Mrs. Weasley, he'd forget his underwear."

At this, Mrs. Weasley, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny all laughed. Ginny looked over towards him, and Harry felt a current of energy and unease run through him as she stared.

Harry looked back at Ginny. He wasn't sure where they stood — they'd been together for a couple happy months, but it seemed that they both had diverted their attention to putting the War behind them, not maintaining a relationship. It wasn't that either of them had exactly wanted it to stop, but Harry had pushed her away when he realized his situation compromised her safety. But after the war, nothing had happened. It left him feeling confused, dazed, and possibly hurt, but Ginny hadn't mentioned getting together. Harry supposed that Hermione would tell him to just ask her, but the summer had been strained and uncomfortable between them. Would it come off the wrong way if he said anything? Harry squashed a particularly resilient shred of potato, turning the plate into soup. He could feel Mrs. Weasley's eyes on him, so he shoveled a large, mushy, and very disgusting forkful of hash down his throat.

"Harry, are you done with your hash?" Mrs. Weasley reached for his plate, and Harry didn't resist. He was drowning in several emotions at the moment; excitement, nervousness, relief, fear. Harry was definitely fearful, and he realized that he was more afraid to be going this year, the safest of them all, than he had been when he entered his fifth or sixth year. What was Hogwarts going to be like without Dumbledore? He'd scraped by without Dumbledore's help when the three of them were destroying the Horcruxes, but the idea of someone else sitting his chair, McGonagall or not, frightened him. He took a deep breath, feeling Ginny's eyes boring right through him.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Ginny asked, setting her tea down.

A moment's pause passed between them before he spoke.

"Yeah," he breathed, taking a sip of orange juice. "I'm alright."

"Dumbledore?" Ginny said perceptively, leaning towards him.

"All of them," Harry replied simply, thinking of Fred, of Remus, of Tonks, and Sirius. Seeing what must have been a somber look on Harry's face, Ginny supportively reached her hand out to rest it on Harry's. "Thanks, Gin," Harry smiled, thankful for her touch. However, before they could say anything more, Ron burst into the kitchen again, heaving his trunk behind him.

"Book. Packed," Ron, out of breath, let his trunk clatter to the floor. "So. Heavy."

Hermione and Ginny giggled, watching as Ron drew a bubbly-looking Pigwidgeon from behind his back.

"'Ello, Pig!" Ginny smiled, waving towards the little owl.

"Hopefully he'll behave better this year," Ron said grimly, making his way to the front door. "Hey, Hermione, Harry, I'll see you outside, yeah?" Ron jerked his head towards the hills outside, dragging his things behind him.

"He could have used magic," Hermione whispered, and Ginny giggled again.

"Poor Ronald," Mrs. Weasley sighed, "sometimes he's not always there," she joked, pointing to her head. Harry laughed along with the girls, taking another drink of juice. A peaceful quiet settled down upon them, only to be cut off by Hermione.

"I should go get my trunk too," Hermione said, jumping up and making her way to the stairs.

"Me too," Ginny said quietly, removing her hand from Harry's. With a fleeting smile, Harry watched her run up the stairs, right behind Hermione, soon out of sight. Alone, Harry took a final gulp of orange juice before standing up.

"Thanks for breakfast, Mrs. Weasley," Harry smiled, before walking towards the stairs. Quickly, he ran up, grabbed his suitcase, levitated it down, and walked it out the door. In minutes, he stood next to everyone, with Ron looking rather grumpy, most likely realizing that he could have used magic to transport his belongings. Mrs. Weasley had come to stand at the doorway, a small, quiet tear slowly dripping down her face. Dabbing it away with a tissue, she pressed a hand to her chest, as if to steady herself.

"Last year at Hogwarts for all of you," Mrs. Weasley choked. "Ginny, study well, dear, I don't want you having to go for an eighth year like these ones."

"Oh, cheer up, mum, we'll be fine," Ron gave her a pat on the shoulder.

"It's just-Fred-oh, dear," she began crying more heavily, and Ron wrapped her in an awkward embrace.

"It's alright, mum," Ron said softly, before she planted a smushing, motherly kiss on his cheek. "You, too, Ginny, Harry, Hermione," she beamed through her tears, each giving them the same treatment. "I love you all," she croaked, waving as they all stood to apparate. "Have fun, dears, and don't get into trouble, Harry, Ron!" she warned, before Harry felt that strange, nauseating sensation. Focusing on Platform 9 ¾, Harry firmly gripped his trunk, stood his ground, and felt the world disappear under him.

...

After their trunks were taken away, and Harry found a compartment on the train, he waited for Hermione and Ron to be finished with their Prefect business. Luna, Neville, and Ginny had joined him in the car, however, and they made for good company. Luna kept going on about how her and her father had spent the summer searching for more Snorkacks and Wrackspurts, though Harry had a feeling that everyone was only half-listening. Neville seemed a little shaken, most likely daunted by the idea of returning to Hogwarts, and sat quietly in the car for the majority of the ride. When asked about his summer, though, Neville mentioned briefly about going on a trip with his Gran, but the details didn't seem to be very exciting. Ginny didn't say much, content with the background noise of Luna's ramblings, and Harry stared out the window, counting the minutes until Ron and Hermione showed up. Finally, impatient and bored, Harry got up to leave the boxcar.

"I'm going to go see if Ron and Hermione are done yet," Harry announced, pulling back the door.

"Oh? But Harry, I'd just gotten to the part where my father grappled the Snorkack," Luna chimed, "you see, it's very hard to do, and it's quite interesting how he did it. Wouldn't you like to stay to hear it?"

"Er, I would," Harry said, "but you can always tell me later, right?"

"Well, alright," Luna said airily, jumping right back into her story.

Escaping the boxcar, Harry began wandering the aisle aimlessly, shuffling past people as he searched for Ron and Hermione. Eventually, he reached the end of the hall, groaning as he went to turn and go the other way. However, before he could go, he spun around to see Malfoy staring right at him, trying to get by.

"Potter," Malfoy said, not particularly vicious.

"Malfoy."

The awkward silence filled in around them again, the hallway strangely empty.

"I need to get by," Malfoy said, his face blank. Again, Harry was completely stumped by his behavior; however, he quickly waved away the feeling, remembering what Hermione had said back at the Burrow. _Just be nice,_ Harry thought. _He's just self-preserving. His dad's in jail. No need to continue the silly schoolyard fights._

"Okay," Harry said simply, forcing himself not to make a jab. Something resembling relief spread across Malfoy's face, as if his iron exterior had been walling up for a fight, and it'd just crumbled.

"Thanks," he said, voice only a little gruff, and pushed past Harry into the next boxcar. Taking a quick glance, Harry noticed the car was completely empty; no Pansy, no Blaise, no Goyle, and certainly no Crabbe. Wondering if Hermione really was right, Harry averted his eyes and began making his way down the corridor, searching for his friends.

...

When Harry finally found Ron and Hermione, they'd barely grabbed something from the food cart before the train halted to a stop, causing a loud rumble of students to pour out from the train. Harry, still snacking on a chocolate frog, had slipped his robes on just in time, following Hermione as they seeped out the train door. The sunny, warm weather that had been there that morning had been washed away, a grim, grey sky releasing little sprinkles of rain. Drawing his cloak tightly around him, Harry made his way over to the carriages, the Thestrals scraping their hooves on the ground.

"See the Thestrals?" Harry pointed, and Ron blanched.

"Oh, wow," he blinked, "I can't believe I rode on one."

Though Ron didn't vocalize it, Harry knew he was really thinking about Fred. Not pushing the subject, the three of them, along with Neville, Ginny, and Luna, all hopped onto an open carriage. Just as Harry could feel the wheels moving along, he peered out the window, and saw a lonely, hunched Malfoy entering a carriage by himself. Eyes wide, Harry watched as his usual group of friends - Pansy, Goyle, and Blaise, all climbed into a separate carriage. He could just see, behind a dirty carriage window, the face of Malfoy, now free and released from its stony trap. A jolt of surprise ran through Harry as he watched Malfoy's face screw up in angry sorrow, putting his head into his lap. Harry saw what he thought was a sob rack Malfoy's body, and as he lifted his head, something wet covered his cheeks. The carriage began to move forward, but before Harry turned around, he caught Malfoy's eye; his expression changed from miserable to pure fear, realizing what Harry had just witnessed. Embarrassed, Harry whipped his head around, unsure of how to process what he'd just seen. There'd only been one other time Harry had seen Malfoy crying, and that was right before he'd tried to _crucio_ him…

The carriage rolled along, scaling the hill up to Hogwarts with great efficiency. Quickly, they arrived at the great doors, and everyone jumped out, heading straight for the castle. A heavier rain began to descent upon the students, and Harry raised a hand over his glasses, trying to see. He felt Hermione grab his hand, pulling him towards the castle, and relief washed through him as he felt his feet hit stone. Smiling, Harry stretched his arm out to feel Hogwarts again. He smelled something very good coming from the kitchens below, and ran after Ron, who was hurrying towards the Great Hall. He felt a little of his nervousness disappear as he was once again enveloped in the magic of Hogwarts.

"I'm starving," Ron grunted, feet clacking sharply on the ground. "I could eat a whole dragon right about now."

Once Hermione had caught up with them, the three all entered the Great Hall.

It felt different; the decorations were the same, the people were the same, but instead of Dumbledore peacefully reigning over Hogwarts, it was McGonagall. Even though Harry knew he was gone, he couldn't help but feel discouraged. A blue, swelling sadness built up inside him, seeping through his veins and pounding at his heart. He could almost see Dumbledore, warm, wise, and inviting, blue eyes twinkling through the gloom of September rain. Harry wrenched his eyes from the staff table and headed onwards into the Great Hall.

Walking swiftly towards the Gryffindor table, Harry seated himself between Ron and Seamus, who was excitedly talking to Dean about his summer.

"You won't believe it, Dean," Seamus spoke quickly, "we went to Rome this summer, and me and me mum got to see the Pope!"

Slowly, Harry watched a trickle of first years stumble in, all looking equally nervous. His stomach growled, remembering that he couldn't eat until everyone was sorted.

The sorting passed quickly, Harry only clapping for Gryffindors. After all the first years had sat down, on edge in their seats, McGonagall rose to greet the student body, a wise gaze setting upon her face.

"Good evening, students," McGonagall began. "I take it everyone is warm and dry?" She glanced up to the ceiling, which was demonstrating the weather outside — a crack of thunder interrupted the heavy sound of rain. "As you all know, I will be starting as Headmistress this year." A twinge of sadness was laced in her voice, and the Hall went silent. "I believe we should all have a moment of silence for those lost in the Battle of Hogwarts last year."

The students fell completely silent, and Harry kept his head down. He crammed in all the people he'd lost — Dumbledore, Sirius, Fred, Remus, Lupin, Tonks — even Lavender Brown and Colin Creevey he grieved. And Snape. Harry shut his eyes, his old hatred soon getting drowned out by confusing emotions. _He was so brave,_ Harry thought. _He should've been a Gryffindor._

A few minutes passed by before he looked up, realizing that many people had begun to cry. Even Ron had let out a tear, though his head was still down. Getting ready to plunge his head back into grief, Harry suddenly saw that Draco, too, had his head up. They stared for a moment, Harry feeling uneasy. Had Draco really seen him looking, back in the carriages? Draco's eyes were still red, with his cheeks puffy, and his face seemed to be wet with new tears. Harry almost had the urge to call across the Hall and say, " _It's okay, Malfoy."_ This notion was completely lost, however, when McGonagall raised her own head, speaking again to the students.

"Thank you, everyone. It is in times of great grief that we must support each other, regardless of house; I ask each and every one of you to be kind to your peers this year. We have lost much, and we need not lose more. I sense that everyone in this room has suffered greatly in the past years, but I hope that this loss, despite its seemingly dismal state, will be the uniting force among all of us. I wish for peace in Hogwarts. I can only hope that that is what you want as well. There will be," she said sternly, "no fighting and no misbehaving this year. There is nothing left to fight for," She finished strongly, dark eyes roving the room with intensity. Distantly, Harry was reminded of Hermione's statement: _Why fight when there's nothing to fight for anymore?_

"Now, I know it may be a hard transition from mourning to announcements," she said sharply, "but there is one major event coming up this year. Beauxbatons, the French Wizarding School for those who don't remember, has kindly accepted to host Hogwarts and Durmstrang in a celebration of the end of You-Know-Who and the War. All Eighth years and Seventh Years who are of age will attend the celebrations in February, where we will stay for a month in Beauxbatons' castle. On the last night, a ball will be held — the Plaisir Ball — and this is why I asked Eighth and Seventh Years to purchase dress robes," she said smoothly, looking down at all the students. "I hope everyone who is going has purchased them?"

Harry nodded, slowly mulling over her words. _Beauxbatons? A month?_ Ron jabbed his elbow in Harry's side, smiling.

"No school for a month!" Ron excitedly whispered, staring back up at McGonagall.

"And no," she narrowed her eyes, as if she knew exactly what Ron had said, "it _will not_ just be free-time. We will be doing many celebratory activities, but many of them will be educational."

At this, Ron's face fell. However, on the other side of the table, Hermione lit up.

"Educational? Did you hear that, Harry? I've always wondered if the French really do their magic any differently from us," her eyes glistened, and Harry could already imagine the books she was going to pack.

"As for other things," McGonagall addressed everyone now, "I only ask of kindness. Please," she said with a deep voice, "I would be disappointed to see students having problems with one another this year."

She paused, surveying the room once more.

"And now," she gave a thin-lipped smile, "let the food be served."

Plates and plates of delicious food appeared in front of Harry, and he began scooping as many things as he could onto his plate. Ravenous, he wolfed everything down, the food barely registering in his taste buds. Chugging a goblet of pumpkin juice, he washed away bits of bread, meat, and potatoes, greedily reaching for the last treacle tart. On his way there, his hand bumped with Ron's, and they both stared at each other aggressively.

"Go ahead, have it," Ron said, obviously not wanting Harry to have it.

"No, you," Harry gritted his teeth, stomach nearly jumping out to grab the tart itself.

"No, you," Ron grunted back, staring at the tart.

"You."

"You."

"No, you."

"I said you can have it, Harry!"

"Oh, the both of you!" Hermione groaned, taking the tart and breaking it in two. "Here! You could've just split it!"

Ron turned red, and Harry felt his face bloom pink. "Right," Harry mumbled. "Split it." Taking the tart, Harry bit into it, smiling as he did so.

"I swear," Hermione shook her head, "Sometimes you two have the brains of Pigwidgeon."

Ron muttered something about ' _wrong… I'm plenty intelligent…owl's a complete dimwit... I'm not...'_ while Harry finished off the tart.

…

Later that night, after Hermione and Ron had led everyone to Gryffindor tower, and they'd all had enough of milling around in the common room, Harry laid in his bed, the sound of Ron snoring interrupting his thoughts.

Though he'd expected to be kept up with thoughts of Dumbledore and the Battle, the memory of Draco's red, crying, and wholly undignified, un-Malfoy face kept towering over everything else. It seemed Hermione was right; no one had sat with him on the train, on the carriage, or even near him at the Slytherin table. Come to think of it, Draco had actually been sitting far away from his peers, estranged by a long line of First Years. He hadn't bullied any new students, or old students for that matter (not even Neville) and had kept entirely to himself. The encounter in the train was strange, and the one in Malkins stranger. Harry turned in his bed. _Once again, Hermione's right,_ he concluded, unable to come up with a sensible answer to Malfoy's behavior. Harry supposed it was for the better; Hogwarts definitely didn't need another conceited, openly mudblood-hating Slytherin. _That's a nice thought,_ Harry reasoned. _At least, if redemption and preservation is his path, he won't call Hermione a mudblood._

With this odd, newfound comfort on his mind, Harry drifted off to sleep, mind peaceful for once as he floated away.

* * *

 _A/N: More Draco and Harry scenes coming soon. Please review, it helps with my writing (constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, no outright negativity though). Follow if you want to be notified, as I'll try to add chapters as consistently as possible. Thanks for reading, and I hope you stay for more!_

 _-Bee_


	4. Walls

_Chapter Four: Walls_

* * *

It seemed that the day had a plan for Harry. On his way down to the Great Hall, he'd tripped on a faulty stair, causing an uproar of laughter from the Slytherins on the flight below. Red-faced and grumpy, Harry had then proceeded to breakfast, only to bump into Dean as he had sat down. Poor Dean ended up with his face in a pile of porridge, and despite the amount of times Harry apologized, Dean still seemed very passive. Once Harry had finally started eating, he was beyond humiliated, and the ear-to-ear grin that Ron was sporting didn't make him feel any better.

"Ron, drop the smile, will you?" Harry said, glumly spreading some butter on his toast. "I've been embarrassed enough this morning."

"So it's true? I heard from the Slytherins that you tripped in the hall, " Ron said gleefully. "Normally, of course, I'd never believe a word coming of those little snakes' mouths, but this was just too good."

"Oh, Ron, be nice, Harry just tripped. Everyone trips," Hermione chided, and Harry smiled gratefully at her.

"But it's _Harry_ ," Ron argued, "Usually it's me knocking people into their porridge," Ron stole a glance at Dean, who still had a little porridge on his forehead.

"Well, not everyone can be perfect," Harry snapped, stabbing his toast.

"Hey, calm down, mate," Ron said carefully, "I'm only joking."

"I know," Harry said forcefully, "It's just-I'm a little upset this morning, is all."

Hermione sent Ron a glance that told him not to push it further, and Harry was thankful when Ron didn't pursue.

They were all silent for a few minutes. Harry took his eyes off his toast, which was cut into several pieces, and let his eyes wander around the room. He hovered on the Slytherin table, and noticed that Malfoy was, like yesterday, sitting several heads away from his usual clique. Suddenly, Malfoy turned up to look at him, and they were caught, for a brief moment, in each other's stares. Harry felt his stomach twist with unease, feeling like he couldn't look away. Then, as if nothing had happened, Malfoy lowered his head, and Harry turned back to his toast. He didn't seem to be nearly as upset as last night — the swelling had gone down, the red in his eyes had reduced — but the familiar sneer was nonexistent, just like all the other days. _Maybe this really_ is _his new normal,_ Harry thought, taking a piece of cut-up toast.

"So, Harry," Hermione piped up, "what classes have you got today?"

"I'm not sure. I know we have Potions with the Slytherins this afternoon."

"Oh no," Ron groaned, "why couldn't I have failed that _one_ class? Slughorn's gonna pair me with Goyle… or worse, Pansy…"

"It won't be _that_ bad Ron," Hermione patted his arm, though she didn't seem so convinced herself.

"Oh sure," he said sourly, "and you'll be just jumping to work with Millicent, won't you?"

At this, Hermione wrinkled her face, quietly saying nothing.

…

The morning had flown by, with Transfiguration and Charms proving to be fun, but quite hard. Harry had failed in trying to nonverbally morphe his pebble into a dragonfly, but, like usual, Hermione didn't seem to have a problem. Then, later on, Harry had succeeded in performing the _Augamenti_ Charm, but in doing so had accidentally sprayed the bottom of Ron's robes. It was with a red face and a fresh new wave of humiliation that Harry set off with, walking towards the Potions classroom after lunch. Once he had arrived, Harry had taken a seat in the far back, him and Ron quietly discussing the catastrophes to come.

"Hello, hello," Slughorn tottered into the room, "Good afternoon, Students."

A few weak, scattered 'hullos' bounced around the room.

"Wonderful, wonderful… Well," Slughorn clapped his hands together, "today we're going to be doing a little review — something from sixth year, if anyone remembers."

Stepping aside, Slughorn grandly revealed a pot of something yellow and aromatic. Harry leaned forwards in his seat.

"Elixir to Induce Euphoria," Slughorn announced proudly, "and if I remember correctly, Mr. Potter brewed a perfect — nay, _outstanding_ — batch of it last year. Added peppermint to reduce the side effects, didn't you?" Though Slughorn said it quite cheerily, Harry nearly gagged.

"Er, yes, Professor."

"Well, I'll be thrilled to see what you do with it this time!" Slughorn chuckled, stepping in front of the Elixir again. "I'll be dividing everyone into pairs, and- no, Mr. Weasley, you will not be working with Mr. Potter," Slughorn glanced at Ron, who had tugged on Harry's robes. "In fact," Slughorn peered around the room, "I'd like two of my best potions students to work together. Harry, will you sit in the empty seat next to Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry glanced to where Slughorn was looking, and saw Malfoy sitting, hunched over a book on his own table. Swallowing hard and attempting to push away the nervous storm that was brewing in his stomach, Harry grabbed his things and sat next to Malfoy, who seemed to not have noticed a change.

"Lovely," Slughorn grinned, "no doubt that will bring amazing results."

There was a brief pause as everyone stared at Slughorn incredulously.

Harry gulped. He didn't have the Prince's book anymore, and so now it was up to Malfoy to impress Slughorn. _Hermione was right. I should've never got involved with that damn book._ Harry looked over to Malfoy, who still had his head down.

"Alright," Slughorn had already paired off everyone else, placing Ron with Neville, and Hermione with Pansy. She looked grim.

"Please," Slughorn beckoned to the class, "begin."

Immediately, everyone began getting up to retrieve their materials. Looking back to Malfoy, Harry waited, hoping that he'd get directed on what to do.

"Er… Malfoy?"

No response.

"I… uh, I can go get the materials, if you want," Harry suggested, but still Malfoy remained silent. _Is he asleep?_ Harry thought, and reached a tentative hand out to touch his shoulder. Lightly, Harry gave him a little shove. When nothing happened, he shook him again, this time causing Malfoy to dazedly lift his head up.

"What," he said quietly, before turning to Harry and realizing it was he who woke him up.

"Oh," he said, nose slightly crinkled, "it's you."

Though there was only a trace of venom, Harry still felt uncomfortable. "Yeah," Harry responded. "It's me."

"Good to know," Malfoy said airily, before putting his head back down.

Harry sat, frozen, unsure of what to do. _Malfoy's never fallen asleep in class…_

After a minute, Malfoy turned up again, this time with a brow raised. "Well?" He coolly demanded, and Harry was speechless.

"W-well what?" Harry stammered.

"Well, go get the ingredients," Malfoy said simply, though Harry could tell he was annoyed.

"I-you were listening?" Harry said, the words feeling stupid as they came out of his mouth.

"Yes," Malfoy stared at Harry.

"Em… but I thought you were sleeping… You can't hear in your sleep, can you?"

Malfoy blinked at Harry. "No, Potter. I wasn't sleeping. Now, can you go get the supplies?" Malfoy's drawl seeped in a little, but his gaze remained bored and plain.

"Er-right-okay," Harry left the table, making his way to the back. For the first time in a long time, Malfoy was humiliating him — usually, Harry felt like he was doing the embarrassing. Harry had stood his ground in the Forbidden Forest on his first-ever night of detention, while Malfoy had run around screaming. Back in Fourth year, Harry had caused Malfoy to turn into a ferret, and normally, when they got in arguments, Harry would always be a little more collected; Malfoy tended to resort to petty insults, pouting, and getting angry, like he was a temperamental toddler. _What is this?_ Harry thought, confused. He grabbed everything he needed and came back to the table, where Malfoy had already set up a cauldron.

"Good," he said, not even looking up to insult or poke fun at Harry. Breathing out, Malfoy rummaged through the ingredients Harry had set down. Without a word, he began setting to work, plopping various items in.

"Did you get peppermint, too?" Malfoy said, voice void of tone.

"Er, yeah," Harry said awkwardly, sliding back into his seat. "Do I need to do anything?"

Malfoy peered up at Harry for a second. "Chop this." Malfoy handed Harry a piece of shrivelfig, and then resumed to reading his textbook. Warily, he began chopping, slowly paying less and less attention to the knife in his hands.

 _I wonder what's wrong with Malfoy,_ Harry looked over at him, thinking. _Sure, Hermione's probably right, but would Malfoy_ really _try to redeem himself? I know Hermione said it was all about self-preservation, but it's strange to think that Malfoy wouldn't have any hope of his family's reputation returning… He's certainly butchered it now,_ Harry thought decidedly, _with all that crying. On the other hand, it's definitely easier for Malfoy to just fall into the background. Defying everyone would require a lot more bravery… and Slytherins don't tend to be brave…_

Suddenly, Harry felt a sharp prick in his hand, and looked down to see the shrivelfig coated in a thin layer of blood.

"Oh, shit," Harry cursed, and then flew his good hand to his mouth.

"Slughorn's not looking. You can curse all you want," Malfoy said calmly. _Calm?_ Harry's thoughts whirled. _When has Draco bloody Malfoy ever been calm?!_ "Here," Malfoy extended his hand, "Let me see."

Harry hesitated. _Give Malfoy my hand?_ My _hand?_

Draco seemed to notice, and shook his head. "I'm not going to kill you, Potter." At this, Harry scoffed.

"Well, how do I know that?" he challenged, remembering the several occasions on which Malfoy had tried to duel, attack and kill him. Malfoy paused for a second, looking away.

"That's done now," he said, voice quiet and strained.

Harry, now feeling like someone was definitely possessing Malfoy's body, cautiously placed his hand down.

" _Episkey,_ " Malfoy recited, and Harry's cut vanished. " _Tergeo_." With a flick of Malfoy's wand, Harry's blood rapidly disappeared.

"Wow," Harry said, amazed, "thanks."

"You're welcome," Malfoy grunted, slightly stiff.

Holding his hand up to the light, Harry examined it; no scars. "You're good at that."

"Thanks," Malfoy repeated, dropping something else into the cauldron. He reached for the shrivelfig, and Harry winced.

"Sorry about that," Harry motioned to the blood, now slowly drying into a thick paste.

"It's fine." Malfoy took his wand, muttered something else, and the blood was gone. Swiftly, he brushed the fig into the cauldron, and a cloud of pink smoke erupted in their faces.

"Pretty," Harry murmured, convinced Malfoy couldn't hear him. However, to his surprise, he responded.

"It is," Malfoy said softly, and Harry gave him a bizarre look. _Maybe someone's drinking polyjuice,_ Harry worked out, _and this isn't really Malfoy._

"Hey," Harry concentrated on him, trying to figure out if it was someone else underneath his face, "what's the curse that I used on you in that bathroom, sixth year, when you were… when we were duelling?" Harry said this as casually as possible, watching as Malfoy went from carefully protected and lightly formal to worried, his emotions rising to the surface.

"Why do you ask?" He said, attempting to remain composed. Harry, however, easily heard the tension in his voice.

"No reason," Harry chewed the inside of his lip. _I've got the intruder, I've got them!_ Harry's mind chanted.

"I-You-" Malfoy stared uneasily at Harry. " _Sectumsempra,_ " he whispered.

 _Oh._ Harry's mind reeled. _Polyjuice is out, then._

"Right," Harry said, slightly disappointed. "Right."

 _Only Snape, Pomfrey, Dumbledore, and maybe some of the other teachers would have known that… Drat,_ Harry scowled.

"Is it funny to you, Potter?" Malfoy questioned, voice a little high. He wasn't acting angry, but he seemed extremely tense. Harry watched as Malfoy struggled to get control of his emotions.

"Is what funny to me?"

"My father. _Sectumsempra._ All the things that are… of great importance to me. My issues."

Harry stared in wonder at Malfoy. _Who_ is _this?_ "No… I just-I only asked-"

"Just-It's fine, Potter," Malfoy turned back to the cauldron, face back to formality. Just like that, as quickly as his walls had broken, he'd put them back up. Harry slumped in his seat, bewildered.

 _What is Malfoy up to?_ However, Harry quickly combated this thought. _I've got to stop thinking that way. The Dark Lord's gone — there's nothing for Malfoy to 'get up to'. Hermione's right,_ Harry thought weakly, _and I guess I can't accept it._

Starting to feel rather foul over all the embarrassing, highly confusing things today, Harry flicked a piece of leftover shrivelfig. In a horrible twist, though, what had meant to be a harmless gesture of frustration erupted into disaster — literally. The shrivelfig Harry had flipped had dived straight into the cauldron fire, but instead of burning up, it tumbled right out, fell on the floor, and caught the hem of Malfoy's robe ablaze. Something Malfoy had been gingerly sprinkling into the potion all slipped in at once, Malfoy having lost grip when he realized he was on fire. Yelping, Malfoy tried to stamp it out, but to no avail. Meanwhile, the potion began to boil, letting out terrible puffs of smoke. It then exploded, spewing across the classroom in several directions. It hit Slughorn square in the chest, a sticky, hot substance covering his robes.

"Potter! What the hell did you do to me!" Malfoy kept jumping, soon realizing his robe was lost. Unclipping it, Malfoy stood in simple black clothes, which had thankfully not caught on fire yet.

" _Augamenti!_ " Harry pointed his wand, dousing Malfoy's left leg and his burning cloak in water.

"Potter! Malfoy!" Slughorn stumbled over, trying to remove the goo off his stomach. "What in merlin's name…" He gasped as he saw Malfoy's singed cloak and the bubbling elixir, which was still emitting an unpleasant-smelling smoke. "What happened here?" He demanded, eyes wide.

"Potter," Malfoy spat, though his walls still remained, "tried to set me on fire."

"I did not!" Harry said angrily.

"I know you two have a rivalry," Slughorn sighed, "but it is _not_ okay to set students on fire, Mr. Potter, though I do admire your handiwork… What spell did you use on Mr. Malfoy?"

"I didn't use a spell!" Harry argued, "I flicked a shrivelfig near the cauldron by accident, and then it caught on fire. I think it fell on the floor and set Malfoy's robes up in flames."

"A compelling story," Malfoy said, "but I doubt it. He's been insulting me since the day we got here. I'll bet he's been dying for a chance to mess with me."

"Yeah?" Harry turned to face Malfoy, "It's not like I was doing anything different. We always fight. You're the one messing it up with your little 'act for redemption'."

Malfoy stared. "Redemption?" He said slowly, voice wavering.

"Yeah, 'redemption'. You've been entirely… well… sort of civil to me, we aren't arguing, and you haven't picked on a single person since you've been here! If anything, _you're_ being weird, Malfoy. But don't worry," Harry said fiercely, "I'm not falling for it. It's all some kind of a trick, to make everyone think you've changed." Harry glared at him. "I know you haven't changed at all, Malfoy."

The class had long since abandoned their elixirs, and Harry could feel everyone's eyes on him. He looked back at Malfoy, who flinched when Harry turned to him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Malfoy said meekly.

"Yes, you do," Harry said, frustrated, "and you can drop the act right now, because it isn't work-"

"Boys!" Slughorn interrupted, staring at the two of them. "Stop this! Harry, shrivelfig or not, you've disrupted my class, and I would think it beneath you to argue so childishly with Mr. Malfoy! I want to see both of you for detention — a week will do it, I think."

"Sir, both of us?" Malfoy asked, searching Slughorn's face for a sign that he made a mistake.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," Slughorn shook his head, "both of you."

"But-"

"Mr. Malfoy, though you did not explicitly do anything wrong, I happen to think that you and Mr. Potter need to learn how to get along… Only for a week, boys. I cannot teach this class if you two are going to be causing trouble." Slughorn looked distastefully at them, before turning around to face the class.

"Carry on, carry on!" He cried, shooing everyone back to their seats.

Harry sat down, slumping in his seat, and turned to Malfoy, who looked furious. However, the instant he looked over, Malfoy's walls went up, and he sat down placidly next to Harry.

"Was it really a shrivelfig?" He asked tiredly, and Harry nodded. Reaching down, Harry picked up the remains of the burnt shrivelfig, handing it to Malfoy.

"Oh," he said quietly, looking down at the fig.

"Sorry about your robe," Harry said delicately.

"It's…" Draco's frustration surfaced for a moment, but he seemed to push it back down, calming himself. "Fine."

They sat in silence for the rest of the period, and Harry felt his stomach twisting; _a whole week of detention. With Malfoy._ Praying it wouldn't be the death of him, Harry sagged in his seat, putting his head into his arms.

* * *

 _A/N:_ _Thanks for reading! If you want, follow my story to stay notified. Feel free to leave a review, and I hope you stay for more chapters (coming soon!). Thanks again,_

 _-Bee_


	5. Stripped of Strength

_Chapter Five: Stripped of Strength_

* * *

That evening promised to be bleak. Dinner was gloomy, the Great Hall swathed in great, fleecy clouds, and it was mostly dark, save for the light of a few floating candles. Harry had eaten very little, his whole body blanketed in nerves. It felt a bit like an oversized truck had ran right over him, turning his insides to mush. When he had finished playing with a few cold carrots on his plate, Harry realized that it was already time to leave for detention. Ron and Hermione had given him some reassuring smiles, but as he currently made his way to Slughorn's classroom, the imminent feeling of dread didn't disappear. Turning a corner, Harry felt an icy draft creep into the hallway, making the stone as cold as his hands.

He hadn't had much time to think about what had happened in Potions just hours earlier, but he knew that detention wasn't going to be any better. It frustrated Harry immensely that Malfoy could so easily switch his emotions on and off, and as he continued down into the dungeons, he started feeling slightly angry towards him. He'd blamed Harry, and it was mostly because of him that they were both stuck with Slughorn tonight. _If Malfoy hadn't had the need to make everything my fault,_ Harry thought bitterly, _we'd be sitting happily in our common rooms, not on our way to detention._

Trudging the last steps towards Slughorn's classroom, Harry took a deep breath. Reaching for the door, Harry pushed it and stepped inside, surprised to see that Malfoy wasn't there yet.

"Mr. Potter! Right on time. Please, take any seat," Slughorn gestured vaguely around the classroom.

Following Slughorn's orders, Harry seated himself in the back of the room, trying to vanish.

It seemed like an agonizingly long three minutes as Harry sat there, bored and stomach twisting, before Malfoy arrived. His face remained as flat as always, and he took a seat in the front, far away from Harry. Feeling a little safer, Harry leaned back into his chair, attempting to relax.

"Well, boys," Slughorn reprimanded, "I think we know why we're here tonight."

Both Harry and Malfoy nodded, heads turned from each other.

"Good. As you seem to have team-working issues with each other, I'd like for you boys to organize my Potions cupboard," Slughorn jerked his head to the supply closet in the back. "It will take both of you to thoroughly clean it out, and the only way you'll get out of here quicker is if you work together. Avoiding one another," Slughorn licked his lips, "will result in staying longer than an hour, and I'm sure neither of you wants that."

At this, Harry nodded, remembering the essay he had to finish for Transfiguration.

"Wonderful," Slughorn smiled. "I won't keep you, but if you boys need anything, I'll be in my office." Slughorn motioned to a door on his right, and Harry nodded again. With a clap of his hands, Slughorn left, leaving Draco and Harry alone.

Neither said anything for a few seconds, before Malfoy stood up and started making his way to the cupboard.

"Let's get this over with," he said coolly, walking into the storage room.

"Em-alright," Harry got up, walked to the closet, and stepped inside, instantly hit with the powerful smell of must, herbs, and other potions ingredients. "Oh, wow," Harry muttered, crinkling his nose.

"Strong smells," Draco said absently, already beginning to pick through a few boxes. "Here," he said coldly, throwing something to Harry. "You do this side," Draco waved to the left, "and I'll do this side," he pointed to the right. Too nervous to say much, Harry just nodded, getting to work on his assigned side. He flew through the first box Malfoy had given him, and quickly got through half, before coming across a box of small labeled bags. Inside were miniscule amounts of ingredients that Harry guessed were expensive, and he spent a good deal of time arranging the oddly named powders and dried fruits in alphabetical order. After that, it was easy work again, and before Harry knew it, an hour had gone by. When the two of them had finally finished, stepping back to admire their work, Harry had smiled. It _did_ look good; Slughorn would probably be impressed.

"Not bad," Harry whispered, and though Draco didn't respond, he had a good feeling that Malfoy felt the same way.

When Slughorn had dismissed them, and they had escaped the cupboard, Harry swore Draco was actually looking a little pleased. His impassive, steely gaze had been replaced with not quite an expression of content, but certainly something far pleasanter than the deadpan stare he had come in with. Feeling nearly happy himself, Harry left, though a nagging thought kept pounding in the back of his mind: _Why in Merlin am I so chipper after a detention with Draco bloody Malfoy?_

…

The next couple of days went much more smoothly than Harry's first, with detention becoming more of a nighttime nuisance than punishment. Draco barely spoke each night, cold politeness acting as a barrier between them. Each time they finished an activity, however, Harry was convinced that Malfoy left feeling at least a little better; being able to work in the same room, without arguing, was a feat in itself. These three days of detention ran smoothly, causing Harry's anxiety to fade; his calm was also most likely caused by the excitement of the Quidditch tryouts, which were today. It was with a little of renewed faith in himself that Harry entered the field that morning, watching through the fog as a line of Gryffindors lined up to fill the positions. He ran through the first couple, appalled at their flying skills, but soon found some talent in a shy, small sixth year named Julien, and placed a girl named Maggie as a chaser. Finally, he came to the last contestant, who was… well, to say the least, highly excited.

"Erm… Romilda Vane? For Beater?" Harry stared in disbelief as Romilda sauntered across the field towards him, grinning.

"Hi, Harry!" she called cheerfully, snatching up an old Cleansweep. "I thought I might make a good beater, and you know I'm always glad to see you! Especially after you and the Weasley girl broke it off."

"Oh, yeah," Harry said uncomfortably. "Didn't you already try out for the Quidditch team? In sixth year?"

Romilda smiled. "Which is all the more reason to try again," she chirped, swinging a leg over the broom. In a flash, she rose unsteadily, legs dangling.

"You got it?" Harry asked, watching as she struggled with the broom handle.

"Oh-yeah-erm," Romilda grunted, firmly grabbing the handle of the Cleansweep. "All good!" She called, a broad smile stretched across her face.

"Okay," Harry said warily, running over to where the bludgers were locked safely in place. "I'm going to release this, and I need you to hit it with the- Romilda, did you get the bat?" Harry shook his head, watching as she came down to pick up the bat, which was lying sullenly on the ground.

"Alright," Harry watched her rise up again, "I'm going to open the restraints, okay?"

Struggling with the buckle, Harry let the bludger soar into the air, instantly zooming towards Romilda.

"Okay, Romilda!" Harry yelled, watching as the bludger nearly whacked into her head, "Hit it with the bat when it comes back again!" Eyes wide, Harry winced as she lamely hit the bludger, only sending it a couple of feet in front of her. "A little harder, maybe!"

She tried again, but with even worse results. Sighing, Harry hopped up on his own broom, shaking his head as Romilda pathetically squirmed around on the Cleansweep.

"Here, here," Harry reached out for the bludger, nearly slipping off his broom as he caught it in his arms. "Okay," he grunted, using all his might to keep the bludger in his arms. Slowly, he descended, and when he touched the ground, Harry forcefully shoved the bludger back in place. A dizzy Romilda stumbled after him, rubbing her side.

"Well," Harry turned, trying his best not to grimace. "That was… not great."

She seemed discouraged, something Romilda rarely was, and Harry bent his head. "I'm sorry, Romilda, but I just don't think that you're going to make it on the team." Looking up, he saw her nose wrinkle and eyes water. Praying she wouldn't cry, Harry touched her shoulder and steered her away from the field.

"Em… maybe another time?" Harry instantly regretted his words the minute they came out of his mouth.

"But there won't be another time!" Romilda whined, and Harry started walking faster.

"Well, maybe not at Hogwarts, but… uh…" Harry struggled, searching for something he could say.

Suddenly, Romilda brightened. "We could just have a match together, right, Harry? Just ride around on our brooms? Maybe we could even share one," her eyes glistened, and Harry's hand receded from its place on her shoulder.

"Oh, er, I… I guess…" Biting his lip, Harry hoped that Romilda would someday forget this promise.

"Oh, wonderful!" Romilda beamed, whirling around to face Harry head-on. "I'm looking forward to it! Maybe next weekend, huh? Oh-wait, no, that's the Hogsmeade trip…"

"Hogsmeade?" Harry questioned, slightly curious.

"Oh, yeah, it's next weekend… Ooh, I know, we could both go to Madam Puddifoot's, instead of Quidditch! Doesn't that sound even better, Harry?" Romilda jumped up and down, startling him.

"Em… I, uh…" Harry desperately reached for a lie, "I'm actually not going. Yeah. I'm… not going." Harry gulped, starting to walk again. Instead of taking a hint, Romilda bounced along, still smiling.

"That's a bummer!" She simpered, pouting. "Quidditch match it is, then! Next Sunday, after the trip, okay Harry?" Romilda then ran ahead, but not before giving a girlish wave back to him. Harry weakly waved back, waiting until she had her back turned to groan.

"I think she got more annoying over the summer," Harry muttered, rubbing his temples. He stopped for a second, breathing in the crisp fall air. Opening his eyes, Harry's eyes floated over to the lake, where he watched a leaf slowly drift from its branch. As his eyes followed the leaf, however, he saw a dark figure hunched under the tree. In a matter of seconds, a group of Slytherins joined the figure, speaking loudly.

"How sad," a girl's voice tittered, "he's sitting all by himself. Not so powerful anymore, are you, blondie?"

"Look, he won't even speak," a gruff voice, probably a man's, came from the tallest Slytherin. He leaned down, smiling maliciously.

"Little daddy's boy hasn't got any influence, has he? Been moping around Hogwarts, acting more like a Hufflepuff than a Slytherin… I wonder, how's this goody-two-shoes business working for you, eh? It's cute and all, but how long can you keep it up?" A slightly smaller man circled the boy, obviously proud of his taunt.

Harry's stomach sank as he tied two and two together. He had a feeling that he knew who was under the tree. The boy said nothing, as if his bullies were invisible.

"What a hero," the girl sighed, "almost as good as Potter, I'd say. Too noble to even speak to us. No wonder you couldn't carry out the Dark Lord's orders," she shook her head, "he must have known you were a little saint on the inside."

The boy stirred, but made no other movement.

"I wonder what daddy would think," the smaller boy sneered, "now that your whole family is virtually worthless. If he ever gets out of Azkaban — which he won't — he'll disown you once he's seen what you've become. Might as well go marry a Gryffindor, since you're down this 'road of goodwill'."

"A Gryffindor," the tall boy echoed, snatching the top of the boy's cloak. He roughly pulled him up, and the hood that had been concealing his face slipped away.

"Aw, look, Malfoy's all upset now," the girl laughed, "how weak! I mean, Malfoy, I really want to know; how _did_ you happen to completely ruin the reputation of one of the most powerful pure-blooded families in the Wizarding World? And in a _week_?"

The tall boy and the shorter boy both sniggered along with the girl, and Malfoy's carefully protected face looked a little broken.

"I can't believe you think making nice with the light side is going to save you from anyone," she hissed, teeth glinting viciously.

Finally, Malfoy spoke, though Harry could hardly hear him. "What do you mean, 'save me from anyone?'" He was trying to look brave, but it was clear that he was afraid.

"Aw, he doesn't know? I almost feel bad!" She giggled. "You tell him, Bailey!" She punched the small boy, and he grinned.

"There are… certain people out there, Malfoy, who don't like it when ex-Death Eaters try and convert. Even if the Dark Lord's gone, some still have loyalty — unlike you. I think you'll soon find that some people — especially old supporters — won't be too happy to hear that you're pretending to fit in," he jeered, shoving Malfoy.

"And maybe we're those people!" the girl cried hysterically, nearly exploding with excitement.

Malfoy shrunk back, sliding down the tree. "What?" he said meekly, trying to draw his hood back over his head. "Just-just leave me alone, please."

The small boy, Bailey, shook his head. "You're not getting away that easily, Malfoy. You know, our parents aren't too pleased with you either," he scoffed, "they were hoping you'd have a little faith. Even without the Dark Lord, we can still thrive."

"Thrive? But-"

"Look here, Malfoy," Bailey's tone was dangerous, "there's a new movement. Someone… new. To lead us. Someone like You-Know-Who," he bent down to be level with Draco. "He's coming for you, Malfoy," Bailey whispered, smiling. "Unless, of course, we do it first." With this note of finality, Harry watched in horror as Bailey and the taller boy shoved Malfoy to the ground, kicking him. The girl kept jumping, excited, watching as Bailey hauled Malfoy into the lake.

"Let's see what the giant squid thinks of filth like you, Malfoy!"

The girl squealed, and Bailey stood back while he enjoyed the sight of Malfoy flailing in the water. "Oh, c'mon Malfoy, don't tell me we kicked you so hard you can't swim?"

"I think you did! I think you kicked him hard!" The girl said gleefully.

Before Harry even knew what he was doing, he started racing towards the lake, wind rippling through his robes. The girl's eyes flashed as Harry pelted past her, and Bailey didn't even attempt to stop him as he made his way to the bank, wading into the water. Harry tugged in his pocket, searching for his wand — but realized that he'd stupidly left it lying next to his four poster, afraid it would snap during the Quidditch tryouts. Just a few feet out, Malfoy was struggling, and Harry, bracing himself to manually fetch him, swam forward, reaching his hand out. Malfoy clasped it, gasping as his head was submerged in cold lake water.

"Here, come with me!" Harry strained, pulling Malfoy as hard as he could.

"My-leg," Malfoy said between bobs under the water, "I think-it's broken."

Nodding, Harry continued pulling him towards the edge of the lake, starting to breath better when he felt the land curve upwards.

"Okay, okay, almost there," Harry reassured, tugging on Draco's arm. "Just a little further."

Safely, they dragged themselves up onto the land, not noticing as Bailey, the other boy, and the girl fled, aware of what they'd just done. Heaving himself up, Harry pulled Draco out of the water a little more and looked at his leg.

"Do you know how to heal this?" Harry asked urgently, shaking Malfoy's shoulder. He shook his head.

"No," he grunted weakly, trying to pull himself up. "Madam Pomfrey."

Breathing heavily, Harry ran up to the castle, hoping that no one would bother Draco further as he laid on the bank, injured and helpless.

…

When Madam Pomfrey finally arrived, she took Draco and Harry up to the castle, quietly fuming over the Slytherins who did it. Harry, shaken but fine, stared in absolute wonder as Pomfrey laid Draco down on a hospital bed. Harry had never seen bullying of that sort before. Save the occasional punch or kick he'd endured from Dudley, Harry had never witnessed a bully attempting to severely injure their victim - let alone drown them. It was downright cruel, Malfoy or not. _And to physically beat him,_ Harry thought, _instead of using magic… it's like they knew Malfoy would have been distraught to have died in such a muggle-like fashion._ Even Malfoy himself, who was a bully in his own right, had never quite tried to kill another student — _well,_ Harry mused, _I take that back. He has. But somehow, this seems crueler…_ Confused by his own thoughts, Harry turned away from Draco, thinking. _I suppose the countless times he's tried to Crucio me, or when he was trying to kill his own peers in the Battle of Hogwarts_ is _worse, but it was all his father's fault, right? His father's influence?_ Again confused by his own thought process, Harry ignored himself, pushing everything away.

"Potter?" Pomfrey called, bustling over. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah."

"Can you tell me exactly what happened to Mr. Malfoy? Other students, you say?"

Harry nodded, and proceeded to inform Pomfrey of what had happened at the lake.

"... And then, I just pulled him out. Without magic," Harry quickly added, wincing at his own stupidity. "I forgot my wand in my dorm room."

Nodding, Pomfrey sank in the information. "Well, it was certainly noble, Mr. Potter," she finally said, looking at Harry. "Now, shoo," she pushed him out the door, patting his back slightly. "I need to care for Mr. Malfoy."

Shutting the hospital door in Harry's face, Pomfrey walked away, the sound of her shoes clacking on the stone floor.

Head spinning, Harry started walking down the hallway, confused for the millionth time over an interaction with Draco Malfoy.

* * *

 _A/N:_ _Thanks for reading! I'm going to keep trying to get chapters out consistently, but with school beginning in a little while, it may be harder. Special thanks to slytherpuffrules and Grace Greenaway, who both favorited/followed my story. Also thanks to TabbyMichelle, who followed my story. Much love, and thanks again,_

 _-Bee_


	6. Saved Again

_Chapter Six: Saved Again_

* * *

"Hey, Potter?"  
"What?"  
"Can you pass the baneberry?"

It was the last night of detention, and it was by far the strangest. Draco was actually speaking to Harry; something that hadn't happened much since sixth year. Harry had a strong feeling that it had to do with that day at the lake. Wouldn't you want to speak to someone after they saved you from drowning?

"Sure," Harry passed the baneberry over to Malfoy.

"Thanks."

"Er-you're welcome," Harry said, still trying to get used to the idea of civility.

Draco began sorting the baneberry into another box, following Slughorn's orders — _Just put the ingredients in these boxes here. Er-should you label them? I don't see why not. Yes, box and label them, please._

"Foxglove?"

Harry handed the floxglove over to Draco, watching as he delicately placed and labeled it.

"Hemlock?"

They continued this mundane ritual over and over, until slowly, the pile of unsorted potions ingredients were placed rightfully into their own boxes.

"Well, that wasn't too bad," Harry stared at their work, slightly impressed.

"Not at all," Draco said quietly, turning to stare at Harry.

"Er… what now?" Harry became increasingly aware that they were now alone, with nothing to do. Would Draco mention the incident at the lake?

"I don't know," Draco said simply, still staring at Harry. "Slughorn said this would take the whole hour, but it only took forty minutes… I guess we could just sit here for the rest of the hour."

"Or we could ask Slughorn," Harry said quickly, wrenching away from Draco's gaze.

"You really want another chore?" Malfoy said coolly, looking at Harry with a puzzled expression.

"I-no," Harry felt his face heat up. _Is this just going to be the 'year of embarrassment' for me?_ He thought sullenly, staring at the lines of wood on his desk.

"Okay then," Draco said plainly, eyes still intent on staring at Harry.

They sat like this for a few minutes, Draco looking, Harry studying his desk. Finally, Draco spoke up, breaking the silence.

"Potter… can we talk?"

"About what?" Harry mumbled, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed.

"About the lake," Draco said forwardly, boring his eyes into Harry.

"The lake?"

"Why… why did you do it?" Draco asked this softly, causing Harry to bring his head up.

"I-Hero complex, remember? 'Potter saves all?'"

"No," Draco shook his head, "that's not it, is it?"

"That's all," Harry muttered.

"You don't save _everyone,_ Potter."

At this, Harry gave Draco a sharp look. "And what do you mean by that?"

"Just… you wouldn't go and save Bellatrix Lestrange, would you? And normally, you wouldn't save me. So why?" Draco wasn't pestering, but Harry felt pressured.

"I-I don't know," Harry said truthfully, "it's-well-I know plenty about those type. You know, big bullies with no real threat. And yet… they weren't just school thugs-"

"Like I was," Draco snorted, a small smile creeping up his cheeks.

"Yeah, was," Harry echoed. "I mean, you're my age, Malfoy, and I don't think it'd do well for me to just pass you by while you're in the middle of drowning. Imagine the press, eh?"

"Makes sense," Draco said thoughtfully, "but it's not like you've really ever cared what the press says."

Harry winced. "Er-well, no, but I just thought that I've had enough publicity to last me a lifetime."

"But don't you think saving your school enemy would earn just as much attention?"

"I, uh…" The thought had never really occured to Harry. "Well, no one found out, anyways," Harry said sheepishly. Then, suddenly, something dawned on him. "Why _didn't_ anybody know?"

Draco gave him a very small, sly smile. "I wouldn't want Potter to be getting any attention, now would I?"

Harry gaped at him. "Wha-what? You're always looking for a good excuse to embarrass me. The 'lake thing' would have done it. And you're always trying to get attention for yourself…" Harry trailed off as he saw the look on Malfoy's face. "Oh," Harry said faintly, "it would have been… embarrassing attention." _Of course he wouldn't want anyone to know! He got beat up — without magic._

"Besides, I'm not like that anymore," he said softly.

Harry sat in silence for a good minute before speaking up.

"Malfoy… why are you... why are we..." Harry didn't elaborate, but Draco seemed to understand. He looked amused, but still showed no signs of a definite smile.

"I think you know I'm not dangerous anymore."

"Well, how can I be-"

"Harry, you watched me get thrown into a lake by a couple of Slytherins." Draco's expression was more serious now. "Shouldn't that be enough? Besides... we're older. We can't fight like kids anymore. We're _eighteen,_ Harry."

 _First-name basis now, huh?_ Harry turned his head back to his desk. This was a lot to process. _People don't just change like that… This conversation is so sudden, after weeks of silence and tension..._

"What they said is true," Draco said in a low voice. "I had a lot to think about this summer, with my father gone." Draco was dead-serious, looking straight at Harry. "I wanted to throw a million insults your way when we met in Malkins that day. But I didn't. My side lost. My father lost. I don't need to lose, too," Malfoy said gently, but still wore a sober expression on his face.

Harry was silent. How do you respond to something so… unexpectedly honest like that?

"Harry?"

Harry nearly jumped at the sound of his first name coming out of Malfoy's mouth.

"I…"

Suddenly, Slughorn came into the room, looking a little red in the face.

"Oh! Boys! I forgot you were here," Slughorn hiccuped. "Was just having some time to myself… Did you finish? Oh, good," he smiled, looking at the organized ingredients. "Well… you're free to go, then. That's it. No more detention. For the rest of the year, I hope," Slughorn added, winking at Harry and Draco.

Harry, still feeling uncomfortable, didn't dare look back at Malfoy. He hadn't said anything about Draco's confession, but then again, he had no idea what he _could_ say. Never had Malfoy been so un-Malfoy, and this startled Harry immensely; if what Draco had said was really true, and it seemed to be by his genuine tone of voice, then Harry wasn't sure what to do. It wasn't like it was entirely impossible that Draco could have changed. Harry knew that war was an impactful thing, and with Malfoy losing his father, who seemed to control nearly every aspect of Draco's life… it was plausible. Very plausible, in fact.

Turning away, Harry picked up his things and made his way to the door. Briskly, he started down the hallway, ignoring the feeling that Draco was staring at him.

…

A week had flown by, bringing with it the long-awaited Hogsmeade trip. Hermione and Ron had both dragged a sleepy Harry from the Great Hall, rushing down the corridors at a great speed.

"Hermione?" Harry panted, nearly tripping, "why are _you_ so excited to go to Hogsmeade?"

Her hair whipping around her, Hermione answered. "Well, you see, I ordered this textbook from an old friend of mine, and they're meeting up with me in the Three Broomsticks!" Hermione looked positively ecstatic.

"Er…" Harry replied, "when… have you made other friends?"

"Oh, Harry," Hermione scolded, "It's not like I've only got you two."

"That's not what I-"

"Well, that's how it should be," Ron said crossly, "I've only got you two."

"What about Neville and Luna?" Hermione turned to Ron, her pace slowing.

"Yeah, but that's-well, that's _them_ ," Ron said, as if it made perfect sense.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione said reproachfully.

"They're great and all, but-"

"Ron, just… Stop," Harry said warily, looking at the defensive expression sprawled out on Hermione's face.

"Oh-alright," Ron said grumpily, giving up.

They walked at a fast pace for a few minutes until they reached the long line of students, many of them holding little pieces of paper. At the front, Filch stood checking their permission slips, a moody scowl heavily set on his features.

"You think we can just slip by?" Ron whispered, staring at the many students. "We're of age, aren't we?"

"I would think so," Hermione said, following Ron as they came closer to Filch.

They were just about to slip by when Filch turned around, giving them a murderous stare.

"And what do you think you're doing?"

"Run," Ron said mischievously, starting down the hill. He gave Filch a grand wave, before calling,

"We're eighteen!"

"Uh-" Harry looked back between Filch and Ron, waiting for instructions. Hermione looked just as unsure.

"You're eighth years, aren't you? Ah, how could I forget — it's little Potter and his friends. I happen to think that you need to go wait in line like everyone else."

"But, they're going!" Harry protested, watching as Dean and Seamus walked by them.

"Harry, let's just go," Hermione said quietly, flicking her eyes to Ron, who was already pelting to the path towards Hogsmeade.

"What? Hermione, you-"

Suddenly and surprisingly, Hermione dashed after Ron, beckoning Harry. For a moment, Harry stared, shocked. Then, he turned to Filch, a guilty expression on his face.

"Er-bye, Filch," Harry said, body whirling, and went after his friends, blocking out Filch's demanding screeches.

When they had all reached the bottom of the hill and had started on the path, Harry looked in bewilderment at his friends.

"Hermione? What-when did you become such a daredevil?"

Hermione looked a little sheepish. "I'm not a daredevil, it's just, well, why bother with Filch anymore, right? We've done braver things."

Nodding, Harry smiled. "I guess that's right."

"And Filch had it coming," Ron said happily, obviously proud of himself.

"I guess he did," Harry laughed softly.

After a while, they made it to Hogsmeade, and quickly walked to the Three Broomsticks. Inside, it was warm, blocking out the cool, early October air. Hermione met her friend, retrieved her book, and they all sat down with a mug of hot, delicious butterbeer.

"Oh, it's gorgeous, isn't it?" She smoothed the book with her hand.

"What's it about?" Harry asked.

"The Unknown Secrets of Potion-Making," Hermione chirped factually, tossing the book over in her hands. It was large and glossy, a kind of pearly sheen painted on the spine.

"Potions?" Ron nearly licked his nose, a streak of frothy butterbeer coating his upper lip.

"It _can_ be interesting, you know."

"Doubt it," Ron said, turning his nose. "Snape's forever ruined that subject for me."

An immediate silence coated the room.

"Er-nevermind," Ron said, abashed.

"It's ok," Harry said gingerly, staring out the window. A single leaf fell from a tree, and he was reminded of that day at the lake. Suddenly, as if the universe had read his mind, a certain blonde passed by, stopping briefly by the window. He seemed intent on watching the same leaf, too, until he turned his head to look at Harry. Instantly, Harry knew something was wrong. Draco's eyes were a little glassy, like someone had poured water in them. Harry frowned.

"Harry?" Hermione asked tentatively, reaching a hand out to him.

Harry didn't respond. He kept looking at Draco, until he noticed something that nearly made him jump. He was holding a small, glass vial, which held some kind of a clear liquid. He gave Harry a loopy smile, before taking the vial and reaching it to his lips.

In a flash, Harry had shot out his seat and through the door, bounding towards Malfoy. He tackled him, hitting the vial out of his hand. They landed roughly on top of each other, and Harry's glasses slid down onto Malfoy's face.

"Hey, hey," Harry said, voice barely audible. Draco's eyes momentarily cleared, but were then dunked back into fog.

"Hey, snap out of it!" Harry shook Draco, his head lolling around. "Draco!"

Maybe it was the use of his first name, or maybe Draco was able to regain consciousness himself, but regardless, he awoke, eyes back to normal.

"I-Imperius," he choked, grabbing onto Harry's shoulders. "He's… somewhere, here…"

Nodding, Harry picked himself up, but Draco grabbed his shirt, pulling him down.

"Glasses," he said weakly, and Harry almost flinched; he could feel Draco's breath right on his cheek, their noses uncomfortably close.

"Right," Harry swallowed, looking away from Malfoy's eyes, which were staring right into him. He picked his glasses up, screwed them on his face, and looked around.

"Where?" Harry muttered, and felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll show you," Draco said quietly, removing his hand and walking forward, unsteadily.

"You're okay?" Harry asked, but didn't get a response before the sound of feet interrupted him.

"Harry! Harry!"

"Did Malfoy ambush you?" Ron growled, giving Draco a dangerous look.

"No, no," Harry shook his head, "Malfoy said something about someone… using the Imperius…"

"Imperius?" Hermione looked shocked.

"Draught of the Living Dead," Draco grunted, pointing to the shattered vial on the ground, just a few feet away. "I don't think he was trying to kill me… probably had bigger, worse plans," Draco winced, holding his side.

"You okay?" Harry asked again, rushing to Draco's side before he could stop himself. Ron looked scandalized.

"What? You believe _him_?" Ron said incredulously, mouth open.

"I-yes," Harry said simply, barely believing his own words. "I do."

"Harry…" Hermione looked skeptical, and her eyes darted from the broken vial to Malfoy.

"There's no time to explain why," Harry said impatiently, "we have to find the guy that did it!"

Draco nodded, not surprised by Harry's sudden defense. Harry reflected on what Draco had said, just a week ago, on that last night of detention — _I'm not like that anymore. I don't need to lose, too._

A surge of confidence welled up in Harry. "Let's go," he said firmly, beginning to walk behind Draco, who was heading into a dense cluster of trees.

"Harry! Wait-no-but it's _Malfoy!_ " Ron shouted, but Harry heard the sound of footsteps following after him.

"I'm only coming because he'll attack you in here, I swear," Ron scowled, trudging after them.

They walked for a few minutes, before reaching a small clearing.

"Here," Draco wheezed, motioning at the clearing. "He was here."

"Here? What were you doing here, Malfoy?" Ron challenged, eyes narrow.

"Just… trying to get away," he said honestly, voice gentle.

Ron looked a little dumbfounded, and Harry, slightly amused, scanned the area.

"I don't see anyone," Harry looked at Draco quizzically.

"Must've run off," he said, looking concerned. Then, something flashed across Draco's face — an idea.

"What if… I stayed here, to bait him," Draco said, voice low, "and you hid out in the trees. Then, we can attack him," Draco looked to Harry for reassurance.

"What? You would put yourself at risk? For this?" Harry raised an eyebrow, staring at Draco.

"I told you," Draco leaned in very close, whispering in Harry's ear. "I'm different."

Stepping fully into the clearing, Draco motioned for them to back away. He mouthed something, but Harry couldn't decipher it.

Slowly, they retreated, backing away until they could barely see Draco through the string of golden trees, leaves gradually fading into reds and browns. They had hardly taken a breath when Ron launched into a quiet, but heated argument.

"What the hell is this, Harry? _Malfoy_? That brat? Why in Merlin are you helping him? He's a good-for-nothing, spoilt, little son of a-"

"Ron," Harry said in a hushed hiss, "just trust me on this, will you?"

"How?" Ron looked nearly hysterical. "How am I supposed to trust you on this? Harry, on all other things, but we saved that damn two-faced bastard from a fire — that's about as far as I'll go for him," Ron's brow was severely furrowed, his whole body contorted with anger. "I freaking hate him!"

"Ron, shut up!" Harry nearly shouted, but managed to keep his voice quiet.

"This is-it's ridiculous! What is going on, Harry?" Ron demanded, his voice beginning to rise.

"He's not _all_ bad," Harry's words spilled out, nearly shocking himself. _Is that really how I think about him now?_ Then, Harry countered that. _It's true, though, isn't it? He's risking his life right now. He has no intent of continuing with the Dark Lord's plans…_

"How can you say that? After everything he's done to us!"

"People change, Ron! After the war… He's different. We've talked. I know it's hard to believe, but like it or not, he's not with the Dark Lord or anything like that anymore."

"Oh, that's a load of bullshit," Ron seethed, "he can say anything he wants. He's a manipulative rat. Tell him, Hermione!"

Hermione paused, looking between them. She was wary, trying to decide who to side with. Finally, she spoke, turning to Ron.

"I… Ron, maybe Harry's right."

"What?" Ron squealed, whipping around to face Hermione. "How could you believe _Draco bloody Malfoy_?"

"Ron…" Hermione chose her words carefully, "do you remember what I said to Harry, after that day in Madam Malkins?"

Ron nodded, but his face was still beet-red with anger.

"Well… maybe what I said is true. About what could happen with his father gone, about the self-preservation. Maybe Draco really is just trying to be normal. He's certainly… gone through a lot."

Harry breathed with relief. _At least Hermione understands._

"Ron, that's exactly it," Harry said quickly, "when we were in detention together, he said some stuff. Some really honest stuff. He said-"

However, before Harry could tell them what Draco had said, a loud voice boomed through the forest.

" _Crucio!_ "

A high, chilling scream split the air, sending waves of nightmarish energy to Harry.

"It's him!"

With no time to argue, Ron and Hermione ran after Harry, all three drawing their wands.

The scream came again, this time pushing Harry faster through the foliage. In a matter of seconds, they came back to the clearing, where a hooded figure was brandishing their wand, pointed at Draco. Malfoy was screaming in agony on the ground, clawing the forest floor. He looked like he was in extreme pain; his mouth was open, eyes nearly rolled back to just the whites. He was writhing, heavily thudding onto the ground as he flew himself on his side. Harry knew exactly how he felt — he felt a small rush of protectiveness.

" _Expelliarmius!_ " Harry yelled, directing the spell at the attacker. It was flicked away, like nothing, and Hermione raised her own wand.

" _Stupefy!_ " Hermione's aim was better, and she managed to hit the man onto a tree, breaking the curse on Draco. He stopped squirming, but a few shivers visibly ran through his body. Frightened, Harry flew down next to him, placing a delicate finger on his neck.

"He's fine," Harry felt reassured by the pulse throbbing on his finger.

"I wouldn't call that fine," Hermione said anxiously, watching as Draco shuddered again.

"Fine for now," Ron said stiffly, a mixture of anger and regret washing over his face. "I'm- sorry Harry. He's…" Ron didn't finish, but Harry could tell that by watching Draco suffer through the Cruiciatus, Ron was starting to get ahold of his anger. "Sorry," he said lamely, turning to face the attacker.

" _Petrificus totalus,_ " Hermione said, but the figure swiftly moved; instead of coming after them, though, he ran, sprinting into the woods. However, before he completely left, he turned, looking back at Harry. Pale skin was barely visible from under the hood, and a spindly, sharp hand was shoved in a pocket.

"You," he whispered, a sly, thin mouth protruding from the hood. "You're next. Both of you," he hissed, a maniacal grin spread evilly across his gaunt face. Then, as if he'd never been there, he apparated, disappearing just as Ron's _Expelliarmus_ shot right towards him.

"Damn," Ron said, stuffing his wand back into his pocket. Shifting his focus to Harry, Ron's face turned into a deeply concerned frown. "Who was that? What'd he mean, 'you're next?'"

Harry stared at Draco, his finger still on his neck. " _You're next_ ," he echoed the attacker's words.

Hermione looked uneasy. "Harry? What'd he mean by that?"

Harry frowned. "I… I'm not sure. The Slytherins…" Harry then trailed off, remembering Draco's wish. _Don't humiliate him,_ Harry thought.

"'The Slytherins' what?" Hermione asked, kneeling down next to Harry.

"Nothing," Harry mumbled.

Suddenly, Draco's eyes flashed open, and he sat up, breathing hard.

"Him-cruciatus-" Draco stuttered, pressing a hand to his heart. "Hurt," he said in short puffs of breath, turning to Harry.

"I'm sure," Harry said softly, lightly placing a hand on Draco's shoulder.

"Where…?"

"Apparated," Harry said, glancing over at the spot where the man had fled.

"Shit." At first he looked worried, tense that he'd escaped. Yet, moments later, he turned to the three of them and nearly smiled, though he looked absolutely exhausted. "Thank you all."

Ron still looked grouchy, and Hermione seemed as if she wasn't sure what to make of it all, but they both nodded wearily.

"We need to get you to Madam Pomfrey," Harry said sharply, beckoning Hermione to come closer. "Should we levitate him or…?"

All of a sudden, Harry felt the feeling of arms wrapped around him, and he looked down. Draco Malfoy was hugging him. _What the…_ It was warm, and… nice? Harry's eyes were wide, looking down into a mass of white-blonde hair. Gingerly, he took his own hands and wrapped them around Draco.

"Thanks," Draco repeated, pulling away.

"I…"

 _I told you. I'm different,_ Harry echoed Draco's words, completely mortified, confused and… glad at the same time? Was this rivalry over? That was certainly comforting, but was Draco _really_ different? Had the war changed him that much? _Well, he_ did _just hug me…_

Bewildered and yet slightly flattered, he helped Draco up.

 _I told you. I'm different._

These words rang in Harry's ears as they made their way up to the castle, perplexing him deeply.

* * *

 _A/N:_ _Sorry, this chapter is a bit late! I think I'll be uploading (if I can) every other day. School's coming up, so I may have some delayed uploads. Special thanks to: DaniDawn, LadyRafaela, Roses2001, affan9, and wmoony for favoriting/following my story. Much love to you all! Thanks again, stick around if you'd like, and please feel free to leave a review,_

 _-Bee_


	7. Why Such Ice, and Why Such Fire?

_Chapter Seven: Why such Ice, and Why such Fire?_

* * *

There was something grim in the Prophet that morning.

"Muggle killings?"

"Yeah," Hermione said quietly, "five of them."

"And the work of a Wizard, I'm guessing?" Ron may have had a mouthful of food stuffed in his face, but his expression was serious.

"Seems like it. Four found in the woods, one in their car. All dead with no injuries, illnesses…"

"Has to be _Avada Kedavra_ , then." Harry glanced at Hermione.

"Yeah."

"Sick," Ron mumbled, eating more sausage. "Why'd you want to go and kill a load of muggles anyways?"

Hermione frowned, thinking.

"What is it, 'Mione?"

"I… It's nothing."

"I'm sure it's 'not nothing'," Harry pressed, curious to see what Hermione was thinking.

"No, it's nothing at all. I swear."

They didn't continue, but Harry knew that look on her face: Hermione had a hunch.

Breakfast was finished, and then the Gryffindors rushed off to Potions. Once in the dungeons, Harry caught up with Draco, who was walking alone a few paces ahead.

"Hey, Malfoy."

"Oh, hi, Potter."

"Feeling better?"

"A bit," Malfoy smiled gently.

"That's good. Does it…?"

"No, it doesn't… the shivers stopped a while ago."

"I-no, I meant…" Harry pointed to his head. "Up here. Does it… is it… do you have any nightmares?"

Draco looked at him, thinking. "No."

Harry could tell Draco wasn't telling him something, but before he could press further, they entered the classroom.

"Hey, Harry," Ron called from behind him, "there's an empty table over here."

"Actually-"

"Sorry, Mr. Weasley, but I'm requiring Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy to sit next to each other for the rest of the term. To work on their… team building skills."

"Oh." Ron made a face, turning to sit with Hermione.

"Er-sorry, Ron," Harry said timidly, sitting down next to Malfoy.

"It's fine," Ron huffed, flipping the pages of his textbook.

"Grumpy today, isn't he?" Malfoy said softly, grinning at Harry.

"He always is. At least a little bit."

Malfoy let out a quiet, subdued laugh, and Harry smiled. Had he ever heard him laugh like that before? Normally it was a sneer…

The rest of potions was a breeze, with Draco helping Harry through the assigned task. He was spectacularly pleasant the whole time, not once mentioning what had transpired in Hogsmeade that weekend. It troubled Harry a little bit, but that feeling was overcome with the thrill of having a new… friend? Surely that wasn't what they were now, but it certainly felt like it. _Draco, my friend?_ It was a bit surreal, really. So surreal that Harry was sporting a wide, ridiculous smile by the time they had finished Potions. In fact, this ludicrous expression lasted throughout the whole day, his big grin attracting a lot of attention.

"Think Potter's got a girl?"

"By the look on his face… I'd say so."

By dinner, nearly everyone was wondering why Harry was smiling. The only inkling to what was really happening was the small, discreet smile he shared with Draco, who was watching in amusement from the Slytherin table.

After dinner, Harry and Hermione headed to the library, leaving Ron in the Great Hall to finish his third treacle tart. They had just sat down to study when a bout of raucous laughter rang through the shelves of books. Harry stiffened, waiting to hear Madam Pince's voice.

"Quiet down you lot, or I'll have you gone before you can say 'book'!"

"Can't believe they're being that loud," Hermione shook her head, leaning deeply into her new Potions book. However, before she could be immersed in the world of Mugwort and Pewter Cauldrons, the laughter came again, along with the screeching scoot of Madam Pince's chair.

"Oh, they'll get it now," Harry sighed, standing up to get a good look at what was happening.

"Bailey! Adwin! Farxley! Get out, now!"

Harry stared. _Bailey_?

Stepping out from the book shelves, Harry strided towards where the racket was coming from, hearing the futile protests of the Slytherins.

"Harry, where-"

Instead of answering Hermione, Harry continued forward, nearly knocking over a whole shelf of books. He could actually feel his blood boiling — he was angry, and he wasn't sure what he was about to do.

"Bailey," Harry shoved through the last bookcase, "you rat. You cowardly little rat."

"Mr. Potter! What on Earth?" Madam Pince jumped, scandalized at the fight about to break out in her library.

"It's not very nice to throw someone in a lake, is it?" Harry said, fiery, stepping closer to Bailey. "You and your friends thought that'd be a right joke, to drown someone."

Bailey's nose turned, looking at Harry with disgust.

"Potter. Come to save the ferret again, have we? Strange how you two have become so close."

"Save…?" Harry whipped around, seeing Draco huddled in his chair. "No, I haven't. He's plenty strong on his own. Right, Draco?"

Malfoy peered up, looking ashamed. "Just go, Harry. It's not time to be a martyr."

"I'm not being a martyr! That was you, just days ago!"

"Oh?" Adwin, the girl, sidled up to Bailey. "Malfoy, a martyr?"

"Martyr my ass," The last boy, Farxley, grinned.

"Boys! I will not tolerate that kind of language in my library!"

"Oh, piss off, Pince," Bailey seethed, glaring at her.

"You will _not_ speak to me that way, Mr. Bailey," Madam Pince was raging, her hair looking like angry puffs of smoke.

"Cursing at teachers now, are we? How bloody cool of you," Harry bristled.

"I'm plenty cool, Potter. _You're_ the one hanging out with Ex-Daddy's boy."

"And is throwing people in lakes cool, Bailey? Do you think bullying people, drowning people, is some kind of a- a trend? That's sick. That's really, really, sick Bailey."

"Oh," Bailey snorted, "says you. You're the one sticking up for the bully. It seems you've forgotten just how _awful_ little Malfoy is. He ruled over as all! For years! And then he couldn't even do the Dark Lord's bidding? Crying and pouting, because the job was too big for him… how sad. How very, very sad."

"I don't happen to remember you doing any work for Voldemort, Bailey."

Bailey flinched at the name, but continued. "I worked. I did my part. All the ferret had to do was kill Dumbledore."

"Oh, like killing is so easy — wait, according to you, it is, seeing as you threw Malfoy in a lake."

"Harry, shut up." Malfoy looked up, eyes carefully narrowing, as if to say: _don't_.

"Draco, it's fine, pride isn't-"

"Oh, I see," Bailey chuckled, " _that's_ why no one seems to know anything about the lake, eh? Thought it'd stain Malfoy's perfect little reputation. Sorry to break it to you, Malfoy, but it's already been tarnished."

" _You_ were the one that ran away, Bailey," Harry challenged.

"Embarrassing, for sure," Bailey tsked, "but not as embarrassing as being saved by Harry Potter. Is that what it's come to, Malfoy? Being saved by bloody Gryffindors?"

"So what?" Harry said defiantly, "Being saved is-"

"Harry, stop speaking for me," Draco sighed, standing up.

"Malfoy, it's fine, I've got-"

"No, Harry, stop."

Harry paused, looking at Malfoy. "Draco, I'm just-"

"I'm not entirely weak, okay? I don't always need you to stick up for me. It was nice the first few times, sure, but honestly… I'd rather you didn't."

"Aren't we friends, though? Friends stick up for each other."

Malfoy looked taken aback. "Friends?"

Harry was starting to get a sick feeling in his stomach. "Right? Aren't we, Draco? After the lake, and…?"

Malfoy frowned. "I… Harry, the gesture is nice, but frankly, I thought we were just friendly acquaintances. It's a bit hard to overcome seven years of hatred, you know."

"Well, I did it just fine-"

"Not everyone's 'the amazing Potter', Harry." Draco said this quietly, but it still stung Harry into silence. Taking advantage of this brief pause, Bailey jumped back into the conversation.

"Flattering, aren't you, Malfoy."

"Go away, Bailey."

"Oh? I think I've got to do just… one more thing before I go."

Malfoy glared at Bailey, but didn't say anything.

"Potter," Bailey chirped, "I happen to think you'll like this little tidbit I have."

"Tidbit of what?" Harry growled. Malfoy's eyes narrowed. Harry didn't like where this was going.

"Malfoy…" Bailey walked around them, like shark and prey, "I happened to hear something interesting last night. Something… juicy." At this, Adwin squealed. Malfoy, on the other hand, was turning very white.

"Yes. Juicy. You were speaking with… your mother, I believe, through the fire? Yes, a very lovely, but rather snooty looking lady." Malfoy scowled, but he still looked uncomfortable. "She was informing you of something. Something you need to do. Something you've already been doing."

"Bailey, shut it or-"

"Shut it or what, Malfoy? You've got almost nothing. And you certainly won't have anything after I… reveal this."

Harry wanted to interrupt, but his throat felt clogged.

"See, I had already guessed this weeks ago, when I came across a certain letter." Bailey extracted a crumpled, yellowing piece of paper, which he handed to Harry. Malfoy immediately made a grab for it, but Bailey pushed him aside.

"Ah, ah," he laughed, "no grabbing, Malfoy."

Warily, Harry uncrumpled the paper. Inside, a few rows of neat scribbling were laid out:

 _Draco,_

 _You must do it. Use him. He can protect you._

 _-Mother_

Harry swallowed. His gut was wildly churning.

"But that was only the surface, Potter. Last night explains everything," Bailey said grandly, taking great pleasure from the pale, sickly look on Malfoy's face. "You see, last night," Bailey licked his lips greedily, "I heard something along the lines of… 'how's it going? With the Potter boy?'" Bailey took Draco's chin, holding it up. "And Malfoy said…"

"'Good, mother'," Adwin squeaked, "'he believes me.'"

"And she said… 'are you doing well? Are you safe?'"

"'Yes,'" Adwin was exploding with excitement, "'he's protecting me.'"

"'From what, dearie?'"

"'From _him_. From Gehennan.'"

Harry was falling, he felt so disgusting. He was sick to the core. His body ached. He wanted to scream at Draco, and yet he wanted nothing more than to be quiet, to lie down and be numb. Harry was too shocked to react properly. He wasn't angry right now, he was just… empty.

"Gehennan?" Harry whispered, not daring to look at Malfoy.

"You'll find out soon enough," Bailey cackled, Adwin and Farxley looking just as pleased. "Now that he doesn't have Potter to cover his ass, he's good as dead. And so are you."

"No." It was all Harry could manage to say. He realised he was clutching the fabric of his robes so tightly, his nails had drawn blood in his thighs. "No," he repeated, turning to Draco. "No."

"Harry, I…" Draco rested his hand on his shoulder, but Harry brushed it away.

"Get off," Harry said roughly, feeling the emptiness being gradually replaced by anger. "Get off of me."

Numbly, Harry turned, walking slowly at first. He could hear the laughter of the Slytherins, Draco calling for him to come back, and the outraged shouting of Madam Pince. Everything felt like it was drenched in molasses. It was slow, and warm, like he was walking underwater. Things sounded distorted in his ears, students whispering as he walked past. He could hear Draco coming after him, felt a hand on his shoulder. Very slightly, he turned his head, pushing Malfoy's hand off once again. Then, as the world seemed to resurface, Harry ran, his anger and hot cheeks catching up with him. No longer was he numb, and no longer was he empty. The world was moving rapidly now, his whole body hot and filled with flames. Faces streaked by, Malfoy's voice disappeared. Something more strong than simple anger was flowing through him now, and he ran madly, running and running until he reached the door he was looking for. With a great, tremendous slam, he entered the Room of Requirement, shutting himself into a dark closet to fume.

…

Harry hadn't cried. It wasn't all that big of a deal, anyways. He really should have seen it coming. _Slytherins are never_ that _nice, just for the sake of kindness,_ Harry thought miserably, burrowing his face in a musty robe. He'd been here for twenty minutes, mulling everything over. After the rush of fury at Draco, he was feeling incredibly angry at himself. _How could I be so stupid? To think he's really changed, that he really wanted to be my friend? All he wants to do is use me. To be protected. What a git. I'm a git._ Harry pressed his head against the back of the wardrobe. It was warm and quiet in here. It was still and relaxing. Harry didn't even play with the logic of why the Room was still standing after the fiendfyre, but he was grateful it was. A clock was ticking softly somewhere else in the room, comforting him. He just needed to think. Without Hermione running through every fact and warning sign, without Ron saying "I told you so." He wrapped the velvet robe he had found tighter around him. He felt like sleeping for the rest of the week.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and the sound of footsteps echoed from the front of the room. Harry pulled his face away from the back of the closet, peering out the crack between the hinges to see who had come in. _Please, don't let it be some students coming in here for fun…_

He peeked out, but immediately his body was dunked in ice.

 _Him._

Draco had slipped in, unaware of Harry's presence. He looked… awful. Despicable, in light of everything that had just happened, but guilty and pathetic and desolate all the same. Harry nearly wanted to go out and comfort him, but he was rooted to the spot. He dared not breathe, dared not shift. He stared, a confusing battle of remorse and anger warring inside him.

Draco shuddered. His face was wet, cheeks splotchy, just like that night of the start of term. He was crying. Big, horrid sobs racked his body, shooting through him like an electric current. His body twisted as he rolled to the floor, curling into a ball. His knees tucked into his hands, and he fit his head into the space between his legs and his stomach. Momentarily paralyzed, Harry stared, watching as Draco became no bigger than a cushion, all wrapped up and breathing shakily. He turned, ignoring the pricking need to help him, and settled into the robe. _He doesn't deserve my help. He used me._ Harry pushed his head into the back of the closet, temples scraping wood. He closed his eyes, stomach and heart aflame, wishing just to sleep for a while. _Just go away, Draco. Just go away, please._

…

Harry had escaped the Room of Requirement, sliding past Draco, who seemed to be sleeping soundly on the floor. Once he had entered the hallway, the door melted into the wall, becoming inconspicuous. Breathing with relief, Harry began creeping down the halls, slowly making his way to the Gryffindor common room. It was late, but Filch didn't seem to be patrolling the halls. Harry miraculously made it up to the portrait of the Pink Lady, whispering the password as she shook her head at him.

"Always out and about, aren't you, Potter?"

Gulping, Harry snuck in, trying to make the least noise possible. He had nearly made it to his dorm room when a figure jumped out on an unsuspecting Harry.

"Harry! Oh, goodness, it's so good to see you!"

"Oh, 'ello, Romilda…"

"You didn't come riding with me last weekend! _And_ I saw you at Hogsmeade!"

Harry's eyes widened. He'd forgotten about that. "Er, Romilda…"

"It's alright, I'll forgive you," she tittered, "but never, ever, do that to me again, you hear? If you want us to be something, you have to commit too," she winked, smiling.

Harry sighed. He was _not_ in the mood for this today. "Yeah. Okay."

"Brilliant!" she giggled, wrapping Harry in a very uncomfortable embrace.

"This weekend, then? A Quidditch match?" She grinned, and Harry's shoulders stooped.

"Yeah. Sure."

Singing with excitement, Romilda clapped her hands, skipping away to her own dorm. Relieved, Harry dashed the last few meters up to his room, and stealthily made to his bed. Drawing the four poster's curtains around him, Harry let out a short breath, body spinning. His last thoughts before he drifted off to sleep consisted primarily of Draco Malfoy.

 _I hate him._

 _I feel sorry for him._

 _He's a prat._

 _He's just trying to protect himself._

 _By using me._

 _He's in danger._

 _I hope he dies in hell._

Yawning, Harry turned over, hoping dearly that his mind would be clearer in the morning.

* * *

 _A/N:_ _Thanks for reading! Just wanted to give some love to wyndnfyr, noremacadam, lisa li li, ely7, LouBrokeHaz, , and Voyager1987 for favoriting/following my story. Sorry this chapter was so late, but work has been busy. Stick around if you'd like, and thanks again,_

 _-Bee_

 _P.S.: You can find me on Wattpad (I have one chapter of an original story there, it won't be updated as constantly as this story though) at my username, BeePosillico. Thanks again, loves!_


	8. Safety

_Chapter Eight: Safety_

* * *

That day was miserable. Harry's wish for a clear mind didn't seem to come true; his thoughts were frantically buzzing in his head. At breakfast, Ron and Hermione had extracted everything out of him. Now he was forced to deal with Ron fuming over both Bailey and Malfoy, and Hermione constantly worrying about Harry's health. He'd told them both that he was fine, but the knot in his stomach was saying otherwise. And, to make matters worse, Flitwick had just pulled him over after a very difficult Charms class. _Is he going to make me drop Charms?_ Harry thought sullenly.

"Mr. Potter," Flitwick squeaked, "I'm afraid that-"

"I know, Professor," Harry sighed, "What do you reckon I should take instead?"

Flitwick looked surprised. "What do you mean by that, Mr. Potter?"

"Well, I'm failing Charms, aren't I?" Harry said resignedly, shoulders dropping. _What_ am _I going to take now?_

"Oh, no, not at all, Mr. Potter. You're doing just fine in Charms," Flitwick paused, taking a breath. "I believe I have some rather grim news… I think it best if you come with me, to see Headmistress McGonagall."

The knot in Harry's stomach twisted. _What've I done now?_ He thought, but something in Flitwick's voice made him think it was bigger than just breaking school rules. Following him through the halls, they quickly made it to the gargoyle, at which Flitwick whispered the password. Watching the great statue step aside, Harry was led into the staircase and up to McGonagall's.

"I'll leave you here, Mr. Potter," Flitwick nodded, beckoning Harry towards the door.

"Thanks," Harry said quietly, pushing open McGonagall's door.

He took in a sharp breath. Things closely resembled Dumbledore's office — small trinkets, strange noises. It was neater, and cleaner, but Harry could tell that McGonagall enjoyed how Dumbledore had previously decorated the space.

"Mr. Potter, you can take a seat here." McGonagall pointed to a vacant chair in front of her desk. Once Harry had been seated, she immediately launched into conversation.

"Mr. Potter. I'm afraid something very… troubling has happened."

Harry nodded, curious and yet uneasy.

"Last night," McGonagall shifted in her seat, "there was an attack."

Harry stared at her. _An attack?_

"Now, Mr. Potter, do you remember the man that attempted to attack you, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Granger, and Mr. Malfoy? In Hogsmeade?"

Harry's stomach did a backflip. _Malfoy._ "Y-yes," he stammered, trying not to get lost in anger.

"Well, we believe… you see… Mr. Malfoy was attacked again last night, Mr. Potter. And he was nearly hit with the Killing Curse, if had not been for… well, you, Mr. Potter." McGonagall let these words hang, Harry startled, before she continued. "Mr. Potter, this man refused to kill Mr. Malfoy until he had you as well. However, Mr. Malfoy did not happen to give away the location of the Gryffindor common room, a place I'm quite sure he knows of. It was very noble of him." McGonagall peered at Harry. "Would you happen to know this man, Mr. Potter?"

Harry didn't speak for a second. _Malfoy… he didn't give me up? But he was using me to protect himself…_ Harry gulped. _Was it the bond? I saved his life twice. Maybe it wasn't really him that saved me. Maybe it was just magic._

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry stared at the ground. Who was it that the Slytherins had mentioned? Gehennan?

"Potter?"

"I…" Harry put a hand to his temples. "No. I don't know who it was."

Unsatisfied, McGonagall pursed her lips. "Mr. Potter, if you know anything, I ask that you tell me. Mr. Malfoy is in grave condition."

"Why isn't he at St. Mungo's?"

McGongall's stern face fell away. "I'm sure you know that St. Mungo's would not necessarily… give Mr. Malfoy the treatment he needs."

Harry frowned, but then understood. _He was a Death Eater… they might let him die._ Nodding, Harry clasped his hands together in his lap.

"I still-I still don't know anything."

McGonagall pursed her lips again, looking away.

"Well," she breathed, "you may go." Harry scooted his chair out, but McGonagall raised a hand to stop him. "And… Mr. Potter… I believe a thank-you might be in order? To Mr. Malfoy? I know you two have had disagreements in the past, but it seemed you were getting on well enough this year."

Harry swallowed. _Maybe, when he's sleeping,_ Harry bit his lip.

"Yeah."

Stomach swirling madly, Harry rushed out, running down the staircase. _Say thank you? After he played me like that?_ Furious and yet conscience stinging, Harry flew down to Potions, guiltily glad that Draco wasn't going to be there.

…

"So he got attacked again?"

They were sitting in the common room, the last sparks of fire dying out. Everyone else had gone to bed, but Harry had told Ron and Hermione that they needed to talk.

"Yeah. And it's my fault."

"Harry," Hermione started, "it's not. This man… Gehennan, the Slytherins said? It sounds like he wants both you _and_ Malfoy gone. Maybe Narcissa didn't realize it, and she just thought that Malfoy hanging out with you would be safer, not making it easier for Gehennan. You know, to take you like-like a package deal."

Harry winced. "I guess. It's just… why wouldn't he turn me over?"

"The bond," Hermione shook her head. "I don't know why you're still feeling guilty."

"And he used you," Ron said ruggedly, flicking a chess piece around on the board. "And he's barely made up his life debt to you. Just one more sacrifice to go."

"Harry, it's not you fault."

"I know, Hermione, I know."

"Are you going to say sorry to him? Like McGonagall asked?"

They both peered at him, curious. Harry thought for a moment. _He's probably sleeping now. I could just go in, say a quick 'thanks', and he'd never know. I'd be free of the guilt, maybe._

"Yeah."

"Oh, really, Harry? C'mon, mate…"

"Just a quick 'thanks'. He's sleeping now, anyways."

"Wait, Harry, you're going _now_?" Hermione looked scandalized. "No! What if Gehennan attacks you next, Harry? You can't go now!"

"There's no better time," Harry shrugged, standing up.

"Harry!" Hermione hissed, "just go during the day!"

"What if I'm seen, Hermione? I don't _want_ Malfoy to know. I don't want anyone knowing," he mumbled. "I'm going to get the cloak."

"Harry, I don't… I think I'm going to have to agree with Hermione on this one." Ron cocked his head as if to say ' _sorry, mate'._

"Guys, I'm going," Harry muttered, turning to head towards the dorms.

"Harry, we-we won't let you!"

"Hermione, I have to do it!"

"Harry, mate, c'mon-"

"Harry, don't!"

"Hermione! Ron!" Harry yelled angrily, "it's just something I have to do!"

They were silent for a moment, giving Harry the time to slip into his dorm and retrieve the cloak. When he came back out, both of them were moodily staring at him.

"Just let me go. Let me do it," he whispered, pulling the cloak around himself. "I'll be fine."

And, with that, he left a distraught Hermione and a frustrated Ron in the common room, ignoring the Pink Lady's squeals as he dashed off into a dark corridor.

…

He had made it safely to the infirmary. Breathing with relief, Harry checked that Pomfrey was tucked safely in her room before slipping towards the beds, checking. A few students down, the curtains were drawn, and Harry peeked in.

 _Draco._

He looked horrid. Some kind of a curse had given his skin a strange, waxen complexion. His mouth was twitching, body shivering. Harry felt a twinge of empathy. No matter the amount Draco had played him, Harry could certainly understand what he was feeling — alone, sleeping, in the infirmary. A dark wizard after him. Harry leaned down into the chair beside him, pulling the cloak off of him. Assuring that the curtains concealed them completely, Harry brought his head down to Malfoy's.

"Hey, Malfoy." Harry's words were barely audible, but Draco's eyes fluttered, just for a second. Drawing back, Harry prepared to pull the cloak over himself, but Draco didn't wake. Breathing, Harry stooped down again.

"I-I just wanted to say," Harry bit the inside of his lip, "that I'm really thankful that you saved me. From that Gehannan guy."

At the sound of Gehennan's name, Draco stirred, but still seemed sound asleep.

"For not turning me in. For not telling him where the Gryffindor dorms are." Harry put his head in his hands, watching Draco through his fingers. "I don't know anymore," he said truthfully. "You screwed me over, for sure, but it was all for protection… why'd you go and do something so-so Gryffindor? So bravely, awfully, stupid?" Harry paused, as if he was waiting for a response. "Unless, of course, you were just trying to save yourself. Again. To get me back on your good side," Harry breathed, withdrawing his head from its bent position. "Who are you?" Harry said thoughtfully, "what do you want?"

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Harry went on.

"I haven't forgiven you, you know. It's cruel to use people. You haven't changed, have you?" Harry stared, pondering.

"No. You have, though, haven't you, because the old Malfoy would never do something like that… save Harry Potter… or was it just the life bond, Malfoy?"

Malfoy was still.

"Life debt, probably," Harry sighed, turning.

Suddenly, Draco's hand grabbed his own, which had been resting on the side of the bed. Harry froze, unsure of what to do. _What's he doing?_

"Git," Harry muttered, yanking his hand away. Grabbing the cloak, he was about to slip it on when Malfoy's eyes opened, and Harry was caught. _Shit._

"Harry…" Malfoy blinked, eyes heavy with sleep, "I…"

"This isn't a forgiveness, Malfoy," Harry whispered, "I hate you now more than ever. I just… it's right to say thanks. You paid off one debt, I spose."

Malfoy winced. "I suppose."

"So," Harry looked at him, controlling the urge to lash out at Malfoy, "what's it like now? Back to 'Potty', 'Weasel', and 'Mudblood'? Should I start calling you ferret now?"

Draco looked at him uneasily. "No."

"Oh," Harry huffed, "you still want me to protect you, eh?"

"No," Draco said quietly.

"Then what do you want?"  
"I…" he hesitated, clasping his pillow. "Thank you. For coming."

Harry was reeling with anger. "Still going to be polite? Honestly, the act is over, Malfoy. Can we just go back to normal?"

Malfoy blinked sleepily again. "If that's what you want." His voice was almost timid.

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

Briskly, Harry turned, drawing the cloak around him.

"See you, Potter."

Ignoring the bare trace of malice in Malfoy's voice, Harry stormed out, head burning. _So now he's back to being meek again… maybe he wants me to think he's weak. In need of protection, even though that's not very Malfoy at all… I don't understand. He knows that I know about his plan, so why is he still going on with the act?_

Rubbing his forehead, Harry was bristling as he trudged up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. _Why is it that Malfoy never fails to infuriate me? Why does he get so under my skin?_

* * *

 _A/N_ _: Thanks for reading! I know this is quite late, but as I said, school's just around the corner and work's been busy. I know this chapter is short, but I'll start working on the next chapter as soon as possible. Special thanks to Bart'sBitch, Hanster10, and allyhills1000 for following/favoriting my story! Much love to you! Please leave a review if you'd like, and thanks again!_

 _-Bee_


	9. It's All so Confusing

_Chapter Nine: It's all So Confusing_

* * *

There was some commotion in the halls today, and Harry had to get to the Divination Tower. Pushing through the crowds, Harry set his eyes on the staircase ahead. _Only a few more steps to go, and maybe I won't be late._

Suddenly, something heavy crashed into Harry, sending him skidding across the floor. The stack of immensely thick books he was carrying scattered across the hallway, open and upturned.

"Crap," he muttered, reaching out for the nearest book.

"Oh look, it's Potter," someone sneered, and Harry glanced up, half-expecting it to be Malfoy.

"Oh, it's _you_ ," Harry said venemously, glaring at Bailey.

"Sweet, aren't you?"

"Reduced to pushing people now, Bailey?" Harry got up, grabbing his books. "Was throwing people in lakes not good enough for you?"

"No, I happen to enjoy both drowning and pushing people," he said lightly, a cruel grin spread across his face.

"How funny," Harry said darkly.

"Very. But not as funny as this." Bailey cocked his head to the side, and Harry followed his gaze. To the left of them, a large crowd had gathered around Farxley and Adwin. And Malfoy. Harry groaned inwardly, feeling very little sympathy for Draco. _Is he really trying to play this card again? I'm not going to pity him anymore, I swear. He's a little rat._

"What, Potter? Not going to stick up for your little friend?"

"He's not my friend," Harry spat, "and he can stick up for himself."

"Oh, wow," Adwin said breathlessly, "cold-blooded!"

"Did the last interaction have something to do with this little friend break-up?" Bailey simpered, gleefully cackling.

"You could say that," Harry bitterly agreed, picking up the last book on the ground.

"How sad," Adwin's eyes drooped, mocking the serious expression on Harry's face.

"Fuck off, Bailey, Adwin."

"Fiery," Bailey said, smiling. "Well, since Malfoy has no bodyguard…" Bailey motioned to Farxley, who began promptly casting several nasty curses on Malfoy. A few Gryffindors in the crowd gaped at Harry, who was watching, unflinching. "Oh, Harry, c'mon, we all know Malfoy's a prick, but…" someone called out, but Harry ignored them. He met Malfoy's eyes for a long second, shooting as much hatred his way as possible.

"How do you like it, Malfoy? You're such a little arse. Getting a taste of your own medicine," Bailey kneeled down to Malfoy, grinning.

"Maybe he likes it," Adwin giggled, "maybe he's a masochist or something."

"Maybe he's gay," Farxley said deeply, wand still pointed at Malfoy.

"Does being gay have anything to do with being a masochist?" Adwin said curiously.

"Don't think so," Bailey said, amused, "but your old man wouldn't be too happy to hear it if he was. Better stick to being a masochist, then, eh Malfoy? I'm sure Lucius wouldn't mind."

Draco looked away, but his eyes were still locked on Harry.

Feeling just a twinge guilty, Harry stepped away, trying to push through the crowd.

"Going so soon, Potter?" Bailey said maliciously.

"Let him go."

Harry, surprised, stared at Draco.

"What?" Bailey said, raising an eyebrow at Malfoy.

"Let him go. He's not here to save me. Let him go."

Harry was shocked. _Is this bastard_ still _trying to get me on his good side?_

"Well, I-"

"I deserve it." Draco said quietly, giving Harry a steely gaze.

Adwin's laughter and Farxley's curse stopped for a moment, not used to this kind of a reaction.

Taking advantage of the pause, Harry shot a quick glance at Malfoy, mind whirling. Though just as quickly as the silence had came, it vanished, and Harry powerfully pushed through the crowd. Breaking into a run, he nearly tripped as he made his way to the Divination Tower, lungs burning as he burst through the trapdoor. Breathing heavily, he made his way to a pouf in the back, ignoring Trelawney's furrowed, intent frown.

…

Today was the day. A match between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins.

Harry's head was still reeling, Malfoy's bizzare behavior never failing to occupy his thoughts. The shouts from outside were muted in the locker room, but for some reason, they made Harry queasy. He wasn't usually like this, but the strangeness of the whole week had lead up to a totality of naseous stomach aches and cramps. Today was the worst day to be getting them, but Harry slung his broom over his shoulder and slunk out into the field.

A roar blasted through the rows of Gryffindors. Luna was looking raving mad as always, sporting her large lion hat.

The Slytherins were greeted with nasty cheers coming from their fellow housemates, along with a steady flow of 'boos' from the Gryffindors. It'd be a difficult match today - it was stormy outside, and the clouds looked as if they'd crack open with rain at any second.

"Good morning, Gryffindors and Slythersnots - I mean, Slytherplops - Slytherins… I know, McGonagall, I know… Welcome to the second match of the season! A fiery one, for sure." Seamus had taken the role of commentator, and he was doing as good a job as Lee.

Madam Hooch was trudging onto the field, whistle in hand. Promptly, she blew the whistle, raised her hand, and spoke above the wind.

"Shake hands, Captains."

Harry glanced up, expecting a different Slytherin to be staring at him.

Harry glared at Draco, but he didn't seem to send it back. He simply cocked his head, held out his hand, and waited for Harry. With difficulty, Harry reached his hand out and put it into Draco's. He wasn't mean or coarse, and shook Harry's hand with great gentleness. Taken aback, especially by the softness of Draco's demeanor, Harry yanked his hand away. Draco, strangely, frowned at this.

"Mount your brooms!" Hooch called, raising her whistle to her lips.

At her command, the Gryffindors hopped onto their brooms.

"And…"

But before Hooch could get any further, the Slytherins had kicked off, shooting into the sky. Enraged, Harry flew off, his team following in suit. Draco, however, had waited for Hooch to blow her whistle before rising into the sky. He seemed lazy, dazed a little. Harry couldn't help but smile at Draco's lack of observation, hovering over the match as he looked for any signs of the snitch. Suddenly, he saw what he thought was a gold glint, far off by one of the posts. He whipped around, but nearly fell off his broom as he rammed straight into Draco.

"What the hell, Malfoy?" Harry was seething, trying to regain his balance.

"Look, Harry, I-"

"Just stop it, will you? Just stop trying to be my friend again. I swear, if you manipulate me-" Harry was heaving with each word, still trying to get on his broom properly, "-one-" a big breath, "-more-" a heave, "-time-" Harry successfully scrambled onto his broom, "-I will kill you, Draco Malfoy, and I am dead serious." Harry ignored the near-wounded look on Malfoy's face. _He's so pitiful. Where'd that stinking Malfoy pride go? Does he even have the decency, to himself, to just give up? It's not working, whatever little scheme he's playing out. I'd honestly prefer him insulting me than bugging me with his protection issues…_

Almost taken away by thought, Harry didn't notice the snitch until Draco had seen it. Luckily, Malfoy was slow this morning, beaten back by the rain, and Harry, with a new rush of adrenaline, swept forward and pushed Draco aside. Reaching with great might, he extended his forearm until his fingers, splayed out and white from the pressure, were almost touching the snitch. Malfoy rode up alongside him, straining against the winds. Specks of rain started to pelt from the sky, light at first but slowly worsening. Harry's glasses were fogging up, but he wouldn't let a little glass get in his way. With a surge of strength, he stretched forward. Draco's hand was too close, and Harry tried to bat it away, but it came flinging back. Malfoy tried the same tactic, hitting Harry's knuckles, but instead their fingers suddenly entwined. Harry looked at Draco with disgust, flicking his hand away, but not before he saw the look on Malfoy's face: his face had been changed to one of surprise and nervousness, as if he was frightened that he'd just touched Harry. Dashing away, Draco abandoned Harry and the snitch. With great felicity, Harry snatched the snitch in one grand, sweeping motion, stopping short and slowly falling towards the ground in a bottle-nose dive.

He landed with a thump, quivered on his feet, and steadied himself. Holding the snitch up high, he whirled it around, heart feeling strict as he tried to breathe. Before he fell on the field, exhausted, he glanced over to see Draco, spinning in circles up above him. He looked nervous, but his eyes were trained on Harry.

 _What was that?_ Harry thought, playing with the snitch. _Why'd he get so scared all of a sudden?_

Too elated, though, to pay much attention to this, Harry was greeted by his friends, who looked just as happy as he.

* * *

 _A/N:_ So, so, so, sorry this is super late! The start of school's been pretty stressful and I just didn't have time to get out another chapter. And yet here it is, finally, after a freakin' millennia. My favorite seasons are fall and winter, and I always feel more inspired then, so hopefully I'll be able to write more! I'm thinking of doing a short, 5-chapter Halloween special, considering it's my 2nd favorite Holiday. I'm also a big fan of Christmas (especially at Hogwarts) so I'll certainly be writing a Christmas special as well. Most likely they'll be Drarry, but if you guys have any other suggestions I'm very open. If you want, you can request something you'd like to see, and maybe I'll write it ( if you think I'm worthy of your idea!). Sorry this was a long author's note, but I feel like a few things needed to be said. As always, much love,

-Bee


	10. Slughorn's Spooky Soirée

_Chapter Ten: Slughorn's Spooky Soi_ _ré_ _e_

* * *

Halloween was upon Hogwarts, and the Great Hall was decked out in all its usual glory.

Harry had slept badly last night, and so when he came down to the great hall, it was in a slow stumble. He rubbed his eyes with his hands, trying to seep vision out of them. Hermione and Ron were already down there, and Hermione seemed to be buzzing with energy. Slightly curious, Harry walked over to the Gryffindor table and slipped into a seat next to Dean.

"Hey, Hermione-" Harry began, but she quickly interrupted him.

"Oh, Harry!" She cried, slamming a piece of paper on the table. "Look what we got invited to!"

Looking down at the paper, Harry saw a series of garishly decorated words, spelling out 'Slughorn's Spooky Soirée'. At the bottom was a gilded photo of Slughorn giving a distasteful thumbs-up and smiling at Harry.

"Oh, no," Harry groaned, sliding the paper away from him in disgust. "We don't _have_ to go, do we, Hermione?"

"Well…" Hermione contemplated it for a moment. "Ron's been invited, and-"

"Ron's been invited?" Harry said, puzzled.

"Yeah," Ron said shortly, stuffing food into his mouth. "I _can_ be smart, you know. Sometimes."

Harry couldn't help but grin, heaping a serving of food onto his plate.

"Anyways," Hermione continued, "it's a costume party. I just thought it'd be fun."

Harry stared down at his food for a moment. "I guess," he said, swirling his eggs around with a fork.

"Oh c'mon, mate," Ron pressed, elbowing him.

" _You_ want to go to a costume party?" Harry said incredulously, raising an eyebrow at Ron.

"Well, Hermione really wanted-"

"Oh, shut it, Ron," Hermione laughed, "you loved the idea of a costume party." She smiled good-naturedly at Ron, reaching over and stealing a piece of his toast.

"So, what're you going as?" Harry grinned.

"It's a secret," Ron said happily, trying to conceal his delight under a sleepy smile. "You're coming, then?"

"Yeah, I 'spose," Harry shrugged, staring up at the floating candles, bats floating around the jack o' lanterns.

"Wonderful!" Hermione clapped her hands, cleaning up the rest of her food on her plate. "Then it's set. Ron will go as Dolores Umbridge, I'll go as Bathilda Bagshot, and Harry will go as…"

"I am _not_ going as Dolores Umbridge," Ron said hotly, cheeks warming.

"I think it's a rather good idea," Hermione said, giggling at the idea of Ron in a tight, hot pink skirt suit.

"I agree," Harry nodded, getting up as he finished his food. He started packing his books away in his bag, stuffing the Daily Prophet into the fold of his arms.

"Alright, I'm heading out, classes start in a bit. See you guys later." Harry straightened out his shoulders and waved as he left the table.

"Don't forget to dress up!" Hermione called as Harry began to walk away, "the party starts at six!"

…

Classes had been awfully mundane the whole day. The sky was a perfect, grey October gloom, setting the scene for a wonderfully lit Great Hall when dinner came around. The pumpkins were glowing with fierce, open snarls, and the tables were lined with rows and rows of pumpkin juice, treacle tart, and cider. The candles were warm, aromatic, and the whole room smelled like cloves. Reminded of Mrs. Weasley's cooking, Harry took in the smell of the Great Hall with a big, deep breath and sat down at the Gryffindor table with Ron and Hermione. Quickly, they scarfed down their dinner, Ron filling his stomach to the brim with several slices of cake, a full gallon of hot chocolate, and an enormous piling of potatoes. Ron, with a strange excitement, finished early (despite the horrendously impressive amount of food he'd eaten) and went scampering back to the Gryffindor common room to get dressed. Hermione followed in suit, looking apologetically at Harry. He found himself all alone, with only a quiet Neville and a silent Dean, who looked lost without Seamus beside him. Deciding that the both of them weren't looking very up to conversation, Harry finished his dinner, chugged a bottle of pumpkin juice, and left for Gryffindor tower. On his way out, he turned to look at the Great Hall, and saw something that startled him: Draco was seated sullenly at the Slytherin table, dressed smartly and playing somberly with his food. He had a mask set beside him, making Harry blink several times, just to make sure the image was real. _Is Draco going to Slughorn's party?_ It would certainly be very strange if Malfoy was to go. He was horribly unpopular, and even if his grades were good enough, he'd probably just end up standing in the crowd, alone and stranded for two hours. Flashing his eyes in modest confusion, Harry jogged up the steps, making his way to the Gryffindor common room.

Inside, it was relatively quiet, considering most of the Gryffindors were still down at dinner. Harry made his way to the boy's dormitory, slipped inside, and immediately began sifting through his trunk for a costume.

"Something scary, something scary…" Harry whispered to himself, nearly ignoring the fact that Ron was pulling something quite interesting out of his own trunk.

Harry pulled out the fine, silk dress robes he had bought from Malkins the day he'd met Malfoy. Shrugging, he drew it over him, pleasantly surprised by the cool of it. He clasped the button in the front, sliding it on neatly, and squeezed his hands into a pair of black gloves.

"You're wearing your dress robes?" Ron said, laughing. "It's a costume party, not the Yule Ball."

"I know," Harry said, exasperated. "I have no idea what to wear."

Ron stared at Harry for a second, before his face brightened.

"I have an idea," Ron said, and pointed his wand at Harry. He muttered something inaudible and suddenly, with a glowing light, Harry's robes turned a warm shade of spice brown.

"Brown dress robes? Really?" Harry smoothed the fabric, a bit confused.

"No, no," Ron shook his head, digging into his trunk. "I bought these," he pulled something large out of his suitcase, "on a whim, you know. Fred and George had been working on it before, you know…" Ron's eyes turned downwards for a moment, but Harry stood still.

"Hey, Ron-"

"Anyways," Ron said quickly, ignoring Harry's attempt at comfort, "they're pretty funny, and I think they'd fit your… personality well."

Harry nearly burst into a fit of laughter as Ron pulled the remainder of the object out, impressed by his cleverness.

"Antlers? When do you just buy _antlers_ on a whim?"

"It was an old product," Ron stared at the thing, "it was supposed to change colors, but I think the manufacturing was flawed…"

"Oh, Ron, this is absolutely perfect," Harry said brightly, grabbing the antlers and fixing them on his head. "A bit like my dad, eh?"

"A lot," Ron said, but his voice was melancholy. "It's not too much, is it?"

"No," Harry shook his head, "I love it."

Newly excited, Ron and Harry rushed out from the boy's dormitory and met up with Hermione, who was dressed as a cat.

"Like second year, huh," Ron laughed, and Hermione blushed.

"I suppose it's a bit of a homage," she said, cheeks turning a bright red.

"I 'spose it is," Harry smiled, turning to the back of the portrait door as they began filing out. "I 'spose it is."

…

In the dungeon, where the party was being held, a strong string of musical notes were floating out of the room, drawing the trio nearer. Hermione kept fixing her ears, but quickly gave up and stuffed them into her pocket as they continued to slide off her head. Harry had gotten several quizzical stares, one compliment, and a scoff as he had headed down to the party. He wasn't sure if the antlers were going to be well-received, but after the horror show that was fifth year, he didn't mind much what the school thought of him. He looked rather smart in his brown dress robes anyways, and if the antlers became too heavy, he could always just say he was dressed as a toad.

They soon arrived at the door, pushing it open with great effort. A chilly draft blew on their shoulders, but they pushed on, entering the room. Strange, quirky music echoed from the left side of the room, where a group of somber looking ghosts were sliding the bows of their violins back and forth. Ron, who had looked quite normal until his entrance to the party, had pasted a sickly magenta heart onto his chest, displaying the word 'SPEW', and was carrying a stack of Gilderoy Lockhart's books.

"Wait, what're you, Ron?" Harry stared at him, scratching his head.

"Hermione," Ron grinned, pulling out a quill and adjusting it behind his ear. "My greatest fear. Very timely for spooky season."

"Ron!" Hermione reprimanded, sounding scarily like Molly Weasley. "It's not even… well… It _is_ a pretty good costume, I 'spose," she said, squinting. "Except SPEW hearts are always _green,_ Ron, _green_ for house-elves. Not magenta…"

Ron pointed his wand at the heart and changed it to green, looking very pleased with himself.

"Alright," Hermione caved, looking a little happy, "now it's perfect." She smiled at him, blushing a little bit, and Harry shook his head happily at the silliness of the two. _Such saps,_ he thought with a warm, swelling feeling in his chest.

"Hey, I think we're gonna go get food," Ron suggested, taking Hermione's arm. "You good to be alone for a moment?"

"Sure," Harry smiled, looking at the two. They quickly ran away, talking warmly and lovingly.

He sat over by the band, watching the other students chat amiably in the crowd.

"Harry! Why, you're looking splendid!"

Harry inwardly groaned as Slughorn came bustling over, holding a bottle of something as his cheeks flamed with alcohol.

"My boy! The antlers remind me greatly of your father, you know. His patronus was a stag!"

"Yes," Harry gritted his teeth slightly, "I know, Professor."

"Oh-ho! Yes, of course you do, that's probably why you chose it… so very, very clever, Harry…"

"Actually, it was Ron-" Harry started, but Slughorn quickly cut him off.

"Always had a great mind, you did. I always knew you were bright up there," Slughorn tapped Harry's head, chuckling to himself. "Not saying that I predicted anything, but… never want to be _too_ modest, my boy, because then you'll never be credited for what you've done," Slughorn mused, taking a sip from the bottle. "Say, where's Mr. Malfoy? How have you two been getting on from your last detention together?"

Harry paused, hoping Draco wasn't near. "Fine," he said lowly.

"Well, that's wonderful! Where _is_ he? I just saw him a minute ago…" he wandered off, weaving through the crowd, most likely in search of a particular ferret.

Harry jumped out of his seat the minute Slughorn left, looking for a place to hide. Yet, before he could run, Slughorn was back, and with Draco by his side.

"Mr. Malfoy is looking particularly intriguing tonight, is he not? Apparently, he's some kind of a… a bandit, yes, like a thief."

Harry turned to see Malfoy dressed similarly to himself: dress robes and a headpiece. The only exception was that Malfoy was wearing a robber's mask, a very common muggle costume. Harry couldn't help but let out a quiet snicker.

"Actually," Malfoy said softly, "I'm a Marauder, professor. They're a type of muggle thief."

Harry gaped. _What?_ Obviously, Malfoy had no idea what he had just said, but the gravity of it had an impact on Harry. He stood for several seconds just staring at Draco, utterly shocked. _Did he just say he's… a marauder?_ Not sure if he was going to laugh, or cry, Harry stood still, watching Malfoy talk to Slughorn. _It's not like Malfoy's done anything, but… he's such a little twat! How dare he call himself a marauder!_

"Harry," Slughorn brought him back to life, "is a stag. Interesting costume, isn't it?"

Malfoy took a good look at Harry. "Yes. It's quite interesting."

Harry, mind whirling, had no idea what Draco was trying to do. _Is this little ferret_ still _trying to be my friend? Why isn't he just fighting with me! Why is everything so darn confusing? What in Merlin's name is going-_

Suddenly, Harry was interrupted by Draco, who stepped closer to him. Wrapped up in his own thoughts, Harry hadn't even realized that Slughorn was gone, just leaving the two of them, alone and together.

"Hey, Harry, I think we really need to-"

"Just leave me alone," Harry said coldly, sliding away from him.

"Harry, look, I-"

"I said," Harry's eyes blazed, "leave me alone."

"Harry, c'mon," Draco grabbed Harry shoulders, clutching on tightly. "We need to talk," he said quietly, but firmly, looking straight at Harry.

"Just stop," Harry shook his head, wrestling away from Draco. "There's nothing to talk about, Malfoy. I already know exactly what you did, you sneaky, backstabbing little snake."

"At least let me explain myself," Draco argued, reaching back for Harry's arm. "Just let me talk to you."

"I said no," Harry scowled, batting Draco's arm away. "Leave me alone."

"Harry, I don't want to pester you, but-"

"You already are."

"-But this is really important. Can you drop the whole… thing Bailey said? This is dangerous stuff, Harry. We need to talk about Gehennan."

Harry's anger dissipated for a second as he stared at Malfoy. _Gehennan?_

"The guy Bailey was talking about," Draco reminded. "There's something we need to discuss. Now," he said urgently, taking back Harry's arm and pulling on it, as if to take him somewhere.

"Really? We're just going to talk about Gehennan?" Harry said uneasily, trying again to get Malfoy to let go.

"Yes," he said simply, jerking Harry's arm. "Just come with me. We can't talk about it out in the open."

"Wait," Harry made them pause, "let Hermione and Ron come."

"No, Harry," Draco said seriously, "this doesn't involve them. If we get too many people involved, we're only making things worse."

"Oh, shove off, Malfoy," Harry said crossly, wrenching his arm away, "I can't believe I even thought about talking to you, even for a moment. You're a prat, and you've always been a prat. 'Getting too many people involved'... You're probably just waiting for the right moment to hex me, all alone in some broom cupboard. I think we both know just how trustworthy you are."

"Harry-"

"I don't get you," Harry rubbed his temples, "first, you're quiet, then you become my friend, then you betray me, then you're quiet all over again, and now you want to be my friend again, but it's all just for the protection, and I-"

"Woah, slow down, Harry, I-"

"Slow down?" Harry said incredulously, "you're asking _me_ to slow down? It's _you_ that needs to slow down, Malfoy. You've been absolutely unpredictable the whole time we've been at school, and its driving me crazy! Why won't you just go back to normal? You're being way too nice, way too quiet, and way too… unlike Malfoy. The only part that actually seemed like 'you' was when you betrayed me, but even after that, you continued the act… you've never been this patient… or good at lying, in general…"

"Harry, I didn't _want_ to betray you-"

"But you did," Harry said heatedly, "and I'm sure you regret none of it. Except, of course, the fact that I won't be there to protect you when big, bad Gehennan comes around."

"Harry, you should know that it wasn't very easy to give up my status like that and follow you around like a- a lovesick puppy," Draco was going paler by the minute, and his significant tallness loomed over Harry.

"Oh, well I'm so very sorry to hear that, Malfoy," Harry advanced on him, trying to draw up his height, "I'm so sorry that you couldn't remain your old, bastardly self."

"You just told me you _missed_ the old me," Draco argued, shaking his head.

"I never missed it," Harry said fiercely, "I just know that it's hiding under there, deep down, and it's the acting, the hiding, that's bothering me so much!"

"So you want me to be like I was?"

"No!" Harry said angrily, "I just want you to stop acting!"

"But, according to you," Malfoy was sounding infuriatingly rational, "if I stopped my 'act', I'd go right back to normal…"

"Well-"

"Do you then think I've really changed?" Malfoy said softly, looking at Harry.

"No," Harry said hotly, stepping closer to challenge him.

"Then what _are_ you trying to say, Harry?"

Feeling like he'd just been backed into a corner, Harry was ashamed. _I'm supposed to be the one making a fool of Malfoy! What is_ wrong _with him?_

"Leave me alone," Harry growled, retreating.

"We need to talk," Malfoy said, nearly frustrated. "Harry, please, we have to talk."

Struck by Malfoy's use of polite words, Harry froze. _Did he really just say 'please'_?

And yet, despite the desperation seeping through the cracks in Malfoy's mask, Harry turned and fled, running somewhere he hadn't decided on. He could hear Malfoy calling for him, trying to get his attention, but he continued to run, slipping through the clumps of people and into a random door, shutting it behind him with great force. Realizing with relief that it was a bathroom, he locked himself in a stall and tucked his feet onto the toilet lid. _Am I really hiding from Draco Malfoy, all-time joke of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?_

Yet before he could continue that train of thought, someone walked into the room.

"Harry?"

It was Draco. Harry didn't respond, watching as he checked the stalls. Draco passed him by, with a swell of relief in Harry's chest, and went to the sink. Through the crack in the door, he watched Draco in the mirror.

Suddenly, someone else entered. By the looks of the shoes, it was a girl, and Harry had the urge to tell her to get out. She walked over to Draco, and through the door, Harry could see the face of Pansy Parkinson in the mirror.

"It didn't work, did it," Pansy clicked her tongue, though there was something distant about her posture.

"You shouldn't be here," Draco drummed a finger on the sink, "if they see you, it'll be brutal."

"No one saw me come in. You checked the stalls, right?"

"Yeah. Bathroom's empty."

The sat in silence for a moment, and Harry tried to limit his breath.

"Why won't he just talk to you?"

"I betrayed him, Pansy. That's why."

"He should've known better," Pansy took a mint out of her purse, "I'm surprised he trusted you so quickly."

"The war made everyone kinder. Everyone just wanted to heal. To trust."

"That's hardly true, Draco. I think it just made everyone tired."

"Maybe he was just tired of being enemies. I sure was. I still am." Draco played with the faucet, the awkwardness radiating off of the both of them.

"I don't get it, Draco. What the hell happened over the summer? One minute you were sidled up next to the Dark Lord, the next you're feeble, kind as a Hufflepuff, as dumb as a Gryffindor…"

Draco was silent for a moment before he began. "Over the summer… well, what happened…" He paused, as if he was searching for the words. "Over the summer, I went to the trials, with my dad and my mum. I sat there for weeks, watching people come in and out, just to testify against all these people… people my family had been friends with for years. Against my dad, my mum, me. So many people. Too many stories. A lot of crying."

Pansy snorted at this, but Draco continued. "I guess… the fact that I'd be just like my dad when I grew up was… ingrained in me. I never really thought about being anything else, except what he or the Dark Lord dictated for me. And then, when neither were there, and I was suddenly all grown up… I realized that…"

"That you're your own person?" Pansy finished for him, staring solemnly in the mirror.

"Yeah," Draco said with a breath, "exactly."

The two soaked in the silence, almost enjoying it for a second. Then, with a slight, un-Pansy-like smile, she gave Draco a pat on the shoulder and made her way towards the door.

"So… you really _do_ just want to be friends with him? Friends with the Chosen One?"

"I guess so," Draco said strictly, "I've got a lot of fixing to do before I've… finished my work."

"You really do," Pansy said, and Harry heard her purse clasp with a click. "Good luck, then. I guess this is our… parting."

"I guess so," he repeated, and Harry was struck by the look of sad somberness, of seriousness, on his face. "See you, Pansy."

"See you, Draco."

And, with that, she left, leaving Draco unknowingly in the company of Harry. They both breathed in the silence, one quiet inhale after another, until all the air in the room was all gone and Draco had left, off to find Harry in another bathroom somewhere else.

* * *

 _A/N:_ _Hey guys! Many thanks for reading. All the people that left reviews, favorited, and followed, I love you all very much! It means lots for people to review my work. Like I said in the A/N before, I'm working on a separate Halloween special, which should hopefully arrive in time. Other than that, I'm going to try to update Reprieve on Fridays and the weekends. I know it's been a very long process, and you're probably waiting for Beauxbatons, but don't worry, I swear it's coming! Hopefully I can finish Reprieve before the new year. Much love,_

 _-Bee_


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